


Put Your Money on Me

by Asrael_Valtiri



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Chancellor Hux, Drama, Duel of the Fates Elements, Fan Theory Elements, Force Ghost(s), M/M, Ren clones again, Sex, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, The adorable Resistance, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asrael_Valtiri/pseuds/Asrael_Valtiri
Summary: He felt Ren press against his back, wrap his arms around his waist. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back into Ren’s broad chest. Hux was glad their full-length mirror was behind them; he didn’t want Ren to see his face. So Hux closed his eyes a moment, let himself pretend he possessed all he’d ever wanted. Power, security, order, galactic peace--and above all, Ren.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 103
Kudos: 238





	1. We Appreciate Power

**Author's Note:**

> This time, I'm way slower than usual. June saw me having a rough reaction to beginning to take Zoloft, but my brain is evening out now, so I think I'll be able to start going at my normal pace. Thank you for your patience and sticking with me!

Kylo Ren awakened in his bed. The blankets only half covered his body; the other half, leg and arm and right breast, prickled in the cool air. He glanced to his left. The body beside him had curled into most of the blankets. He watched as they rose and fell with each breath. For a brief moment, he felt at peace. He doubted that would last very long. Eventually there would be waking and working and fighting. And he wondered again how they had made it together this long, after everything that had happened on Crait and before.

He rolled to his side to curl over the slumbering form beside him. A pale, freckled, narrow little shoulder peaked out from the duvet. He leaned in gently to kiss at its fleshiest spot. Not that there was much flesh, but it was very pretty, indeed.

The body moaned.

Ren rolled over and onto his feet. Naked, he stretched and strode to the giant window overlooking his capital. He wanted to stay here. It was poetic. Appropriate.

He looked out over the city, the city that covered the planet.

Coruscant.

Soft steps approached him. Before he could turn, lean arms circled his chest, hands clasped between his breasts. Soft lips kissed his deltoid muscle.

“Ugh, an eyesore.”

“I thought last night you thought me pretty,” Ren replied, his umbrage only a jest.

“No, you fool. This planet.”

Ren turned.

“I thought you liked civilization, Chancellor.”

Hux rolled his sleep-heavy eyes. “I liked the clean lines and austerity of my ship. That city out there is a chaotic disaster. We should have gone to Naboo.”

“That’s not chaotic?”

“It’s far more aesthetically pleasing, my darling,” Hux retorted.

“Like me?”

Hux humphed his response. 

“We’re never moving your capital, are we?” he sighed.

“Nope. Never. I like how appropriate Coruscant feels as my capital.”

“You aren’t the one stuck here,” Hux reminded him.

“Careful, or I won’t go to that meeting today,’ Ren threatened.

Hux laughed. “You weren’t anyway. Mika was.”

He leaned in for a kiss, but Ren pulled away.

“So,” Ren began, “who’s better, me or one of my clones?”

Hux furrowed his brow. “Why are you even asking me that?”

“I assumed you’d sampled--”

“Whyever would you assume that?”

And there went the peace of the morning. Hux looked affronted. Completely offended. Ren knew Hux was one of the least chaste people he’d ever known. It seemed perfectly reasonable to Ren that Hux would have tasted all the Rens in order to find the particular flavor of each. A Ren buffet. Perhaps, if he had Hux cloned, he’d try a Hux buffet.

But no, Hux gazed at him mournfully and pulled away from his embrace.

“I should prepare. Excuse me, Supreme Leader,” Hux murmured, and Ren watched his slim, nude retreating form steal away into the fresher.

Ren sighed and looked out over the city. Now, it seemed to mock him, to rise up to entrap him here. He didn’t feel the Force so strongly here as in other places. Instead of feeling peaceful, despite how he wanted Coruscant to be his capital, he often felt his powers blunted. Maybe it was the history, his connection to the place; maybe it was the lack of nature.

Maybe it was the unspoken expectations of his chancellor, whatever those might be. Hux still nagged about his missions, about the Force; but Ren saw how well he kept the artifacts Ren brought him. How he had a cupboard of antique sabers in his office. How he kept Vader’s helm in a place of pride in their shared chambers, despite how little he liked it watching them. Although he’d taken away the ashes in which it rested.

“So Millie doesn’t think it’s another dirtbox,” Hux had told him archly.

Yes, they’d grown closer. They worked fairly well together now. Well, Ren had Hux running the show for him.

And Hux, to Ren’s surprise, did exceptionally well.

And Ren knew his surprise was based largely on old spite. Despite how Snoke treated the former general, despite what the older officers thought of Hux, he had always surpassed competence. Privately, Ren knew--loathe as he was to admit such truths--so many of the ills that had befallen his chancellor were not the fault of Hux at all, but due to Ren’s negligence, impulsiveness, wretched temper, and the damnable luck of the Resistance.

Was the Force testing Ren? No matter. He ruled the galaxy now, so he assumed he passed the test.

And that was largely due to Hux’s brilliant mind.

And now, the aforementioned chancellor emerged from the fresher, one of their massive towels draped over his shoulders, hiding his form within its embrace.

Hux didn’t bother looking at Ren as he rummaged through their bureau for his undergarments. His face looked impassive; his movements were nearly silent, as if he didn’t wish to draw attention to himself.

Ren watched him for a moment as Hux found whatever it was he sought and then opened their massive closet.

Hux had thought it a needless extravagance, but Ren had filled it with his black garments and also with many impressive outfits for his representative to the Order and to his galactic citizenry. He wanted his most important advisor to impress people, to show the glory of his rule. And so he’d found a renowned designer and hired her to outfit Hux in a manner appropriate to his new rank. Hux had wanted just a simple change to his trusty First Order uniform, telling Ren that a whole new wardrobe wasted credits better used elsewhere.

But Ren was the boss and insisted he had final say on where Snoke’s vast fortunes--also discovered by Hux and his clever young officers--went. He’d allocated a tiny but still large amount to refashioning Hux’s...fashion. And after nearly three years, he still had to force Hux to wear his wardrobe.

Ren sighed. “Wear the white one, with the red-lined cape,” he told him.

“It’s too much, Ren. It’s absurd.”

“You always say that. But it’s new, and you haven’t worn it yet.” 

Hux groaned and entered their closet, rifling through racks toward the back wall. Things he never wore if he could help it. Each new item was more gaudy than the last, but Ren insisted. The next time Ren had Keloah make him clothes, Hux would need to rein her in. He could find myriad other ways to utilize those credits and still pay Ren’s pet designer a goodly sum for her admitted talents.

It all simply wasn’t to his tastes, but Ren seemed to like dressing Hux like he was his pretty little doll.

And Hux lacked the heart to refuse him.

He felt Ren press against his back, wrap his arms around his waist. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back into Ren’s broad chest. Hux was glad their full-length mirror was behind them; he didn’t want Ren to see his face. So Hux closed his eyes a moment, let himself pretend he possessed all he’d ever wanted. Power, security, order, galactic peace--and above all, Ren.

Certainly, in some other reality, things had not worked out so well for either of them. The galaxy lay in ruins, both of them dead, having never really reconciled after Crait. He felt in his marrow how fortunate he was to live here, now, with Ren’s arms around him; Ren in their bed spooning him; Ren giving him power to order the galaxy, as long as he didn’t step on Ren’s toes, so to speak.

And he was proud of all he’d accomplished. Slavery was nearly obsolete. Child labor was illegal and had virtually ceased. Outer Rim planets now had schools being built and food provided and shelter given. Slowly but surely, poverty was being reduced. The underworld was being brought to heel by either being legitimized--so long as they abided by the Order’s code--or destroyed completely, should they not obey the Order. Intraplanetary wars had lessened. All this in only nearly three years.

Yes, for now the galaxy was essentially under a military state, but he projected that in only a few years, he could loosen the reins.

But peace, prosperity, order--they were viable goals right now. In spite of the many roadblocks some of the Core Worlds set before the First Order.

Secretly, most importantly, he currently had Ren’s trust. He’d earned it. Since Crait, Ren had kept him close, of course. But he had done everything in his power to prove to Ren he could trust Hux. Even though Hux had wished to kill him, Hux knew completely--after his hesitation on the Supremacy--he would never be able to kill Ren.

He couldn’t bear to.

Yes, he nearly had everything he wanted. And most of all, Ren.

He leaned his head back to kiss Ren’s scarred cheek.

“I can feel you, you know,” he purred into the space under Ren’s earnest chin. “We don’t have time for that, Ren.”

His heart unclenched. If Ren were feeling amorous, their earlier awkwardness had fled. He was simultaneously relieved and dismayed; he knew it would only occur again. Try as he might, Hux was never able to brace himself for it.

“Are you sure?” Ren murmured.

“Perhaps after?”

Ren turned him around, pulled him close by his hips. “I think,” he said slowly, “ we have enough time for something real quick, Chancellor.”

Sometimes, like now, Hux annoyed himself with his inability to deny Ren. Instead of contemplating his annoyance, he wrapped his arms around Ren’s neck. His towel fell from his shoulders as Ren pulled him gently to the floor.

  
“Watch the mirror, Supreme Leader,” Hux purred from atop Ren, before leaning down to kiss him.

  
  


*

  
  


Hux strode through the halls of their palatial eyesore, followed closely by their Praetorian Guard--Ren's clones. All of the Knights of Ren save Asher were with Ren. She had become the commander of their red-helmed soldiers. Which suited Hux. The Praetorian Guard usually followed him, and he only trusted two of Ren’s knights--Asher and Valance, the two that had appeared with Ben Solo long ago. Besides being unruly and filthy, the other knights left a bad taste in his mouth. He couldn’t discern the reason; he simply didn’t trust them.

Asher met him at the door to the conference room, a Ren beside her. Surrounded by his crimson-armored guard, Hux was a vision in white and gold. Asher wore black, as always, her leggings tucked into high boots. Only her long ceremonial red cloak indicated she was no longer just a Knight of Ren. As for the clone, under all his makeup, Hux was unable to discern which one played the Supreme Leader today. Hux inclined his head in acknowledgement to the clone. The clone smiled at him, which suddenly struck him as very unlike the prim Mika.

“Everyone is ready for you, sir,” she told him. She gave a small smile. “The old men are getting antsy waiting for you. I left Val in there with them. They are on their best behavior.”

“Ah, good.” He wanted fussy old men squirming anxiously as they waited for him. They hated being under the fist of two young men who had no true Imperial advisors.

One thing upon Ren and Hux agreed: The past must not dictate the future. All the old men who had run the Empire learned quickly that their opinions mattered precious little, unless those opinions were useful. Rarely, but sometimes, they were.

“One more thing,” she said, and she frowned.

“What?” Hux asked. His stomach clenched. So much time around Ren, the clones, Asher, Valance. He thought he might at least be honing his instincts more. Of late, he’d had a few hunches proven right. Behind the door were ambassadors for places like Canto Bight, for people like those from whom the Order had sometimes been funded. Those who had monied interests. And if someone else in the Order were there to represent those interests--

“Pryde,” he groaned.

The one fight they’d had after conquering the galaxy. Ren found Pryde useful, smart. Certainly, but Hux had countered he was also vain, conniving, secretive, untrustworthy, cruel, and old. And Ren had told Hux not to take Pryde’s appointment personally.

Hux had slept in his office that night.

Tension seeped into his shoulders. His head began to ache.

“Yes, sir,” Asher murmured.

A hand touched his arm.

“He’ll do nothing, he’ll say nothing, whilst we’re there,” the Ren said.

Hux examined him closely.

There were minute differences between the clones. To hide those differences and to present the most untouchable regal version of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, in public each wore the marks of Naboo royalty. The whitened face, the lip stain, the face paint. But each wore a modest black robe and a simple obsidian coronet on his brow. Connecting Ren with his royal bloodline--with his beloved grandmother--had served them well in their rule thus far. As Hux had known it would.

Under the crown and simple braid, under the white and lip stain, Hux could tell this man wasn’t Mika. He had helped commission the clones. He had spent every day of the last two years with them. He knew them well, even if not sexually, like Ren himself had thought.

“Where’s Mika?” he asked.

He also knew Mika would never have touched him.

“Here, sir,” one of the guards replied.

“Why is Errol here in your stead?” Hux asked. “Why was I not notified?”

Asher sighed. “I told you two to tell him.”

Errol shrugged casually. “It’s not a big deal, is it? Mika doesn’t like how Pryde looks at him.”

Mika murmured, “He’s an old lecher.”

“For some reason,” said another of the Rens, “he only bothers Mika. Does he suspect, sir?”

“Not consciously, but it’s better that you two traded places,” Hux replied. It would not do for Pryde’s lasciviousness to undo all their concealment. The clones were to Ren as Padme’s handmaidens were to her.

For Ren, they also offered him the added bonus of being able to skip boring meetings. Hux always caught him up later.

He noticed suddenly that Errol’s hand was still on his arm. He moved away and watched Errol lower his hand haltingly back to his side.

“You look splendid, sir,” he whispered.

Hux nodded curtly.

He did look surprisingly good, he conceded. Once he had dressed, Ren had told him he looked ethereal. If Ren liked it, he might be able to resign himself to dressing so absurdly. Someday. Eventually.

He was all in white, save for his short cape, which was lined in red. The buttons and epaulets were gold, as was his thin circlet. It offset his hair quite nicely, although he feared the white washed him out.

Unfortunately, Errol’s admiring eyes told him that was not the case.

He needed to be careful of that one.

He tugged his jacket hem to straighten it, pulled the edge of his soft, white gloves, and squared his shoulders. Beside him, Errol straightened and assumed the naturally haughty look of anyone named Ren.

“Into the rancor’s den,” Hux muttered, and Asher led them through the door.


	2. I Want to Be Every Lever You Pull

The representative from Canto Bight yammered on pointlessly. Hux kept stealing glances at Errol, trying to gauge his level of patience. Hux was glad that the Rens seemed so well-trained by Asher that they all possessed far more patience than the Supreme Leader himself. But it became apparent to Hux that Errol was fast losing patience with the old fool. Though the arches of his brows were covered in thick white face paint, a little furrow had appeared above the bridge of his nose. His eyes glared intently at the old alien. Hux wasn’t familiar with his race, but he’d brought a Twi'lek girl with him. She sat beside him quietly, taking notes on a datapad.

“And so the guild proposes a partnership with the First Order,” he concluded.

Hux’s eyes widened. He shot a glance at Errol, whose eyes were also large.

Thank the stars every clone of Ren paid more attention than Ren did.

Errol’s demeanor became positively thunderous as he gestured abruptly for Hux to speak.

“Xi Gado,” Hux said slowly, as if speaking to a rather dim child--and he might as well have been. The man’s name was difficult to say, but Hux spoke it perfectly. He’d made sure he could, and his perseverance paid off as the preposterously rich alien blinked at him in surprise. Hux smiled. “You seem to labor under the misapprehension that you are on equal terms with us. That you are a separate entity.”

“We have always operated outside government regulated channels,” Xi Gado replied. His large black eyes narrowed, and he sucked at his overly large teeth in distress.

“That was before,” Hux said. “We’ve spent the last year and a half working with you to bring you into our fold. I’m afraid you’ve not complied with any of our requests.”

“Sir!” The representative’s froggish throat bulged with a croak. “It takes time--”

Errol held up an impatient hand. Xi Gado snapped his long jaw shut fearfully; the Twi'lek woman’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. Whilst the fellow whom she accompanied stuttered into silence, she looked almost aroused. Again, Hux wondered who she was.

Errol spoke, lowering his voice to match Ren’s angry timber. “We are well aware that you still maintain child workers. We are well aware how poorly you treat your racing fathiers. We are also very put out that you have fixed your accounts and lied to our chancellor about your tributes.”

“Tributes is such an archaic term--,” Xi Gado began.

“You dare argue with us, your Supreme Leader?”

Hux arched a cool brow at Errol. He enjoyed this role immensely, far more than the actual Supreme Leader. 

“Sire,” Pryde finally interjected, “allow me to oversee their transition under our banners. One must handle such situations delicately.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. He wondered how much Canto Bight gave the old Imperial to keep the Order off their backs.

Errol huffed, gestured to Hux. “What say you, Chancellor?”

Hux smiled pleasantly. “Pryde, you’ve done well with our gambling friends, but it’s time to move on to our next phase of conquest.” He steepled his fingers and gazed with pleasure at Pryde’s frown. “I will be sending General Phasma to oversee your transition on Canto Bight. From there, she will assist the rest of you,” he told the other representatives. “Welcome to full sovereignty under the First Order.”

Everyone from off-planet gasped in shock, including Allegiant General Pryde.

“Is she trustworthy?” he snapped. “She’s hardly even organic anymore! That’s hardly the delicacy we need--”

“Are you questioning the Chancellor’s words, Allegiant General?” Errol snarled.

Oh, he was good. The room suddenly held the whiff of ozone.

Valance, in his helmet, stepped closer to Errol. To everyone but Hux and his guards, it seemed Valance moved to support his Supreme Leader. He intimidated them all into silence. From his seat beside Errol, however, Hux watched the clone clench his hands in his robe. Valance’s warning had been for Errol, to rein in his powers. To his credit, his face remained impassive.

The Twi'lek woman looked intensely at him. Errol caught her eye and looked away.

Pryde nudged the Xi Gado.

The representative cleared his throat and attempted to straighten himself in his chair.

“Esteemed Chancellor, beneficent Supreme Leader--” he began, and Errol snorted quietly. “Supreme Leader,” Xi Gado stated once more, “in a show of the Canto Bight Council’s good faith, our loyalty, my esteemed--er,” he stuttered, pausing slightly in mortification at his unintended slight against Hux, as if the Chancellor of the First Order were analogous to some rich old fart. “Pardon me,” he proclaimed, flustered, but at least he had the good sense to bow low to the table.

He began again. “To cement our loyalty, to show the admiration in our hearts, my colleague has sent his granddaughter in his stead. He is old and ill, you see, and begs pardon. But he wishes me to present A’Yara to the Supreme Leader. And, if she should please him with her beauty, charm, wisdom, and--um, skill, we would be honored should he favor us all on the Council by taking her--” He took a breath-- “as his royal consort,” he finished quickly.

The woman, A’Yara, stood, all eyes on her. Rather in shock, honestly. The audacity of Xi Gado stunned Hux.

Beyond the Council and Pryde, Hux saw Asher’s unbelieving face. She caught his eye, rolled her own. Beside him, Errol hissed.

Everyone stared at him.

Pryde looked like he might gloat any minute. He gave Hux a smug look.

And Hux? He laughed.

A’Yara glowered at him.

Indeed, she was a beauty. Her skin was the color of a stormy sky, and her lekku were decorated with ornate bands. She was a bit taller than average and proportionally as voluptuous as Ren himself. Her lips were full, her eyes large, her body strong. She would have been an aesthetically pleasing match for Ren.

Except.

“Supreme Leader Ren already has a consort,” Hux heard himself say.

Everyone froze and stared at him in shock. Asher brought her hand to her forehead.

“Excuse me?” A’Yara said at last. Even her voice was a luscious match for Ren’s. A pity.

“I am the Supreme Leader’s royal consort,” Hux clarified. “I’m terribly sorry you were brought all this way, my dear.”

Pryde nearly brought his fist down on the table.

For his part, Errol reached over and took Hux’s hand in his own. He gently rubbed his thumb over Hux’s gloved knuckles.

A’Yara slumped back into her chair.

“If,” Hux added, “you are as clever as Xi Gado suggests, the First Order could use your talents.”

Pryde gave Hux a smarmy leer.

“Whatever you have need of, Chancellor,” Pryde said in a manner pregnant with meaning.

“Mm, no, Pryde, please refrain from humiliating yourself,” Hux told him. “I mean we need non-humans in our ranks. In positions of power. The Supreme Leader and I wish to change the galaxy’s perception of the Order. Even after nearly three years, the Order is still equated with xenophobia. We wish to change that. Such beliefs are from an era best left behind. We wish to be a government for all people.”

She appraised Hux carefully.

He met her gaze and told her, “We are a meritocracy. You would work according to your knowledge and not be seen as useful based on your beauty as a bargaining chip.”

She wasn’t the first female--or male--brought before Hux and Ren for marriageability. He knew the signs of frustration, of the loathing of being objectified.

A’Yara pulled out a datapad from her satchel at her hip, handed it to Hux across the table.

“My portfolio, your grace,” she told him.

He smiled and took it.

He liked her already.

  
  


*

  
  


“Stars, Hux, what were you thinking?” Asher scolded him.

“It isn’t as if it were a secret,” he told her.

“No, but you embarrassed them.”

“I know full well what I did. And it felt good. The look on Pryde’s face! And we get a competent person in the bargain,” he told her. “What she could do for us!”

He exclaimed. He rarely exclaimed. He was in such a good mood, even Asher’s very reasonable concern couldn’t bother him. He poured himself two fingers of Arkanian whiskey and, after a moment, one for her too.

It felt so good to say he was Ren’s consort. Ren’s. After nearly a decade of instability, he finally found the solidity in their relationship he’d always desired. He lived with Ren, slept with Ren, ruled and had a life with Ren. This was his secret desire, from the moment he’d seen Ren maskless so long ago. This was why he had hesitated on the Supremacy. This here, this perfection. They had finally learned to communicate, how to compromise with each other.

He’d never been so happy.

Asher quickly downed her whiskey. Her eyelids slid closed vertically. “I needed that,” she said.

“As do I, but my mood is one of delight,” he replied.

At that moment, the door to his chambers opened, and in walked Ren himself. Hux couldn’t help himself: He smiled beatifically at his very dearest one.

“What?” Ren asked suspiciously.

“You missed a very interesting meeting, my darling,” Hux answered.

Ren shot a cautious glance towards Asher, and she cocked her head curiously at him. It wasn’t as if she’d no clue how intimate they were. Her Praetorian Guard spent more time with the Supreme Leader and, especially, his Chancellor than anyone else. Not only in the city, but in the entire palace. She knew their secret. She’d always known it. She held back a groan because she knew Ren was about to put his foot in it.

“Do tell,” Ren said with scant interest.

“Allegiant General Pryde had the Canto Bight representative bring along a very fetching young woman in an attempt to woo you,” Hux said, his voice smug.

“What the hell?” Ren yelped. “I told them the last time to give it a rest!”

“Yes, well. Phasma is going with some troops to help them transition to our rule. They weren’t happy, but I decided to hire the girl.”

“Why?”

“I looked at her resume. References and all. She’s quite brilliant. She’ll do well in R&D. Now they know under no circumstances will you accept her as your consort,” Hux replied, waving his gloved hand casually. The milky skin of his wrist flashing caught Ren’s eye--the delicate bones and pale blue of his veins under the white skin.

Ren had never known wrists could be a fetish before Hux.

“How did you get them to lay off?” he asked. His eyes trained on Hux’s flesh, and he wished Asher would leave them. Why was she still even here? he wondered in frustration.

“Simple, my darling.” Hux chuckled happily. He approached Ren and put his arm around the Supreme Leader’s neck. “I simply told them the truth.”

“What?” Ren asked again.

His confusion perplexed Hux, but it didn’t disturb him at all. He knew how dense Ren could be.

“I told them the truth, love. I told them I’m your consort,” Hux replied. 

Any other time, Ren might be entranced by the rare smile Hux now gave him. But Hux’s words processed more quickly than his smile did, and Ren shoved him back.

“You did what?” he yelled.

Hux dropped his arms to his side. Confusion drew his brows together. He opened his mouth to reiterate his words, but Ren exploded at him.

“Why would you do that?” he yelled more loudly.

Hux flinched. “Because there’s no point in trying to arrange a marriage for you. I’m your consort--”

“When have I ever said that, Hux?” Ren bellowed. “Why would you assume that?”

Ren missed the way Hux began to tremble. Asher did not.

“Sire--” she began.

Ren ignored her.

“You,” he hissed, “are not my consort, Hux. You think I’d fall for that? Give you that much power in my life? And here I thought you were content. But you never are. You have never been my consort. You will never be my consort.”

His pointing finger punctuated every other word, as if he were using it to punch the air Hux breathed, with every jab of it in Hux’s face.

The Chancellor’s eyes were huge. His brows rose, and his mouth gaped. As he closed it, his chin trembled a moment as he regarded Ren. And the Supreme Leader watched a dozen microexpressions cross Hux’s face, each one more obscure than the last, until his face was blank, cold, closed.

Without a word, Hux walked away from Ren, taking a wide berth to avoid touching him, and left their quarters.

“What the fuck, Asher?” Ren snapped.

She turned to glare at him. “Ren, you fool,” she said. “He was so happy.”

“It is convenient,” Ren snarled. “He remains loyal. I can keep an eye on him. It works really well.”

She sneered at her former brother knight. He stood straighter to tower over her.

“Feh,” she muttered and followed Hux.

In his fury, Ren used the Force to throw a chair into the wall, smashing it.

  
  


*

  
  


Hux just managed to control himself as he stormed from their rooms. The two guards outside the door both jumped to attention as he emerged, but he ignored them, continued towards his office. He barely noticed one guard following him. His mind was a blur. his heart ached.

If he were not Ren’s consort, what had they been doing all this time? How could they be together, yet Ren still didn’t want him? Not enough. Never enough to count. What was he?

He swallowed an insistent sob as he walked briskly through the halls to his office. He schooled his expression to one of aloof command, though he encountered no one he’d need to fool. Other than his guard, that is, following closely behind.

“You need not attend me,” he said over his shoulder.

The guard paused a moment before a distorted sigh came from his red helm. “It is my duty. Master Asher told us all never to leave you unattended, your grace.”

“As you will, then.”

Hux entered his office and shut the door behind him, leaving his guard to stand alone.

Quietly, he disrobed until he was in only his under garments. He folded his absurd apparel and placed it atop his desk. Then he went to a closet and pulled out a blanket and pillow. He kept them there, just in case, though this was only the third time he’d needed them.

He fixed up his new bed upon his ice blue sofa. He was glad he’d splurged long ago; it was, at least, a comfortable substitute for their bed in the aftermath of a fight with Ren.

Not that Hux had argued.

He reclined on the couch and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He realized it was far too early, but he didn’t want to eat. He had the rest of his day free, ostensibly to spend with Ren. He’d had plans for them. Now he had none, he didn’t know what to do. His heart ached in his chest, and he felt the tears come.

He was sure that the Force-sensitive clone outside his door could sense how he wept, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. He wasn’t Ren’s consort. He wasn’t Ren’s anything. Just the Chancellor of the First Order. He was nothing but the brain of the First Order.

A knock sounded on his door. He ignored it. When the door opened, he turned to face the back of the couch. If it weren’t Ren, he didn’t care to see them.

Hux heard someone pull a chair up beside the couch, gently pat his hair. The steps were light, though he could tell they belonged to someone large. But not Ren. Ren never walked so delicately. Suddenly, he heard a quiet thunk, and then gentle fingers were in his hair.

“It’s all right, Armitage,” a voice murmured quietly. “Go ahead and cry. I’m right here.”

He tried valiantly not to, but in the end, he obeyed.


	3. Your Ass Belongs to Me

He wasn’t there when Hux died. He was chasing Rey. Pryde shot Hux and commed him after, as Hux’s corpse lay cooling on the bridge. He had treated Hux so badly, and he thought part of him had died with his abused general. Now, as he embraced the girl, he rued the moment he’d struck Hux last year. As they kissed, he and the girl, he gave up and died.

And Ren awakened with a start, stirred by his own agonized moans. He lay there panting, raised his hands to cover his face as he gasped in air.

This was a new nightmare. Or was it a vision? It hadn’t happened, but was it a harbinger of things to come? In this dream, Hux had betrayed him, but Ren couldn’t blame the man in the dream. His Hux, though. He had given his Hux everything, yes; his Hux essentially ruled the galaxy for him, and he’d done so well. And yet, perhaps Hux desired more? Perhaps Hux desired the title, Ren removed--or subservient to him. Surely, that’s the reason his Hux had claimed before witnesses to be his consort.

Uncalled for.

Probably tactically stupid too, which wasn’t like Hux at all. Unless Hux played a longer game on Ren. He wondered how closely he ought to have kept Hux. He might have been wiser giving him no more power than he’d had as a general, or less.

But--no.

In his dream, the denigrated Hux perished ignobly at the hand of an old enemy. An old abuser, whom Ren had promoted over Hux.

Ren sat up.

He reached for Hux, stopped as he recalled his Chancellor slept elsewhere tonight. Grimaced as he recalled Asher’s disdain. No doubt all the Praetorian Guard and Valance knew of this new row. He’d be more embarrassed if the guard weren’t clones of himself.

But he was lonely without Hux. The bed was too vast, cold, without his skinny snob beside him. He’d grown accustomed to his presence, his meticulous manner, the way he groaned softly when his alarm woke him. Ren had grown to expect Hux always at his side, ready to fix things, ready to organize, to command. Hux did so much, possessed so much knowledge, Ren was aghast at himself for ever believing the man to be useless and spoiled. How he had disdained Hux for so long Ren didn’t comprehend. Not when he’d walked Starkiller Base, seen Hux’s scars; heard his cries in his sleep from the nightmares that plagued him, that Ren sometimes could see.

Hux had proven himself time and again to everyone despite the odds perpetually stacked against him.

Ren could do far, far worse for a consort. Hux was already with him, always. No one was more clever, so intelligent. And no one treated Ren like he did.

Ren sighed and pulled Hux’s lonely pillow to his face, inhaled the scent of his shampoo, the expensive kind Ren bought for him.

He bought his chancellor fucking shampoo!

Hux might be a little within rights to assume he was Ren’s consort. But they’d never discussed it. Never said the words. However Hux felt, Ren doubted they felt the same thing.

And.

Unfortunately for his lover--yes, that term was acceptable, accurate even, because to Ren, it didn’t have the tone, the finality, the commitment of consort--

Ren wanted a consort who wielded the Force. And the girl was the most likely candidate. She was his equal in power. And so, she should rule with him. Just as he’d asked her.

Love needn’t be part of the arrangement. What even was love?

He recalled his dream.

He hadn’t loved her. His dream self had done the necessary thing.

Hux’s death hadn’t been necessary.

Ren rose from his bed and paced. He left their bedroom and paced before the giant viewport in their living room. Everything here reminded him of Hux. Even if Hux left or died, Ren would be haunted by his presence. Not only would everything smell of the man, but he had chosen everything in their quarters. All of it. Nothing had been chosen by Ren.

Ren possibly should have loathed this fact, but he’d really only been too happy to let Hux have his way. And it was comfortable. It was soothing. Even though he’d had no opinions on the matter, Hux inherently understood what Ren needed in a living space. In a home. Ren came home gladly to this space he shared with his lover.

But lover was not consort.

He would have Rey for his consort.

But--perhaps Hux would settle for Chancellor and favorite concubine. Surely, Ren’s fate lay with Rey--they’d had a bond. To be sure, that bond had been manufactured by Snoke, but it had been there nonetheless. And he’d grown fond of this life with Hux.

Then again, perhaps his reliance on Hux made him weak.

A small chirp sounded behind him. He turned, and Millicent trotted towards him. She rubbed his ankles and then wandered over to Hux’s spot on their sofa. She leapt onto it and began to knead it desperately. The look she gave Ren was one of dissatisfaction.

“I wouldn’t hurt him, cat. I promise,” he told her. She turned her back and loafed on the cushion. Ren sighed. “He shouldn’t have said what he did. He wants too much. And why is Asher mad at me? How is any of this her concern?”

Millicent ignored him.

Asher, the captain of their guard, his former knight--his former fellow student at the temple--acted as if he’d hurt Hux. As if he had any control over Hux’s feelings. As if Hux’s happiness were reliant upon Ren and not his own goals.

He began to grow more angry.

And the image of Hux slamming dead to the ground arose in his mind once again. How his dream self had given his life for Rey, and that had been fine. Because how could he live knowing all he’d done to Hux had killed him.

Ren had killed Hux.

The image refused to leave him. Hux’s cat turned and met his eyes, and he imagined her heavy-lidded gaze held such accusations. A strangled whimper left his throat.

He threw on pants and a shirt and fled their quarters, Millicent watching him archly as he slipped through the door and out into the hall.

He ignored the two red-clad guards stationed outside his door. He only hoped that Hux were guarded also, or the clones--and Asher--would be punished. The mere thought of their lack of consideration, of their dereliction of duty, infuriated him, and he stomped off down the corridor.

Once Ren disappeared around a corner, Kero and Mika turned to each other. An exasperated breath erupted from Mika’s mask. 

“Does he really think so little of us?” he asked.

Kero shrugged. “It’s probably what he’d do. He’s projecting again.”

“What doesn’t he get? We aren’t him.”

“No, dearest heart. I’d never treat you like he does the Chancellor.”

“Nor I you.”

Quietly, as Kero reached through the Force to alert his brothers of Ren’s impending arrival, Mika reached out to take his hand.

  
  


*

  
  


Errol swore under his breath. He really didn’t want to see their original right now.

Maybe they each had some element of Kylo Ren in their makeup, but his brothers and he were all so very different from that irascible creature. And now said creature was set to intrude upon Hux. Errol sneered.

He knocked gently on the door before peeking into the office. Mask in hand, he entered and immediately caught sight of his brother singing. Hux was obscured by the back of the couch, but he saw his brother’s hand reaching for him, gently petting his hair. Errol swallowed thickly.

Lan glanced over.

“Hey,” Lan murmured.

“Hey, yourself,” Errol replied. “Is he awake?”

“Do you think I’d be doing this if he were?” Lan asked with a grin.

“Point,” Errol said. “Unfortunately, Kylo’s on his way.”

Lan frowned, but on his gentle face it looked more sad than annoyed.

“Best get back to our positions,” Errol told him, gently though. The two were both well aware of the feelings they each harbored for Hux; but Lan was the sweetest of his brothers and scarce knew how to resent anyone. And Errol, though perhaps possessing the greatest capacity for cruelty of them all, could no more despise Lan for his feelings than he could himself. And Errol, unlike Kylo Ren, did not comprehend self-loathing.

But he loved his brother even more than Armitage Hux and would be glad of any attachment between the two.

But Kylo Ren.

Their master of masters.

Errol could resent him.

“Sleep well, Armitage,” Lan murmured.

Hux slept on as the two clones donned their red helmets and left the office.

Just in time.

Kylo Ren stormed around the corner just as Errol and Lan stepped into position. Ren paused as he approached them.

“Oh, you are here,” he muttered.

“Yes, sire. Master Asher made sure you were both guarded,” Lan said emotionlessly. He knew Errol well enough to realize he needed to be the one to respond to Ren. He could read Errol’s anger in the tension of his body.

“Oh, good. Well, then, as you were,” Ren told them.

Ren was so awkward, Errol loathed him again, just a bit. He didn’t understand Armitage’s taste one bit.

Ren shoved between them and opened the door, but paused again.

“Is he--okay?” he asked dully.

“He is asleep,” Errol answered tersely, but if Ren noticed, he said nothing.

The door hissed shut behind him.

Lan leaned back against the wall as Errol gritted his teeth.

  
  


*

  
  


Ren stood over Hux’s slumbering form, examining him.

The city lights from the viewport cast their dim glow into the room, reaching with some measure of success Hux’s face. They touched his high cheekbones and brightened the gold in his hair; brushed along his lashes and shadowed the hollows in his face. He was bathed in gray dimness and limned in neons. He looked so peaceful, Ren feared for a moment he really was dead, and fell to his knees beside the couch. He pressed his face in as close as he dared and listened for the soft intake of breath, tried to catch the rising and falling of his chest to assure himself Hux still lived.

Hux furrowed his brow and rolled toward the back of the couch.

Ren sighed in relief.

“You aren’t my consort, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care,” he whispered.

He could tell Hux didn’t wake up, and he was glad of it. He sighed and rose to find himself some bedding. As he opened the linen cupboard, the door hit his knee, and he swore. Sheepishly, he glanced to Hux, but he continued sleeping. Once he’d dragged out the blankets and pillows and arranged it all in a satisfactory manner, he lay down beside the couch.

He could just make out the perfect, rounded back of Hux’s head. He kept his eyes on it until he fell asleep.

  
  


*

  
  


As if the lights of Coruscant weren’t bad enough, now the sun shoved knives into his eyes. And those felt puffy and arid. Had he cried himself to sleep?

How weak, he thought with dismay.

But he vaguely recalled someone singing. It had been nice, had reminded him of his mother--what little he could recall of her.

He cursed this planet’s infernal light pollution, but stopped as he looked down.

It hurt to see Ren sleeping there, but he smiled softly at him anyway.


	4. Why Don't I Do It for You?

They broke their fast together, Hux and Ren, chatting lightly about the weather, their agendas--anything to distract themselves and each other from the day before. Ren had awakened to discover Hux watching with a strange look on his face; he didn’t question the intent, only took the Chancellor’s hand and kissed it. Then they returned to their quarters, where Ren behaved quite considerately, sitting with an arm around Hux as they ate, watching as the hazy sunrise lit up the golden threads in Hux’s hair.

Sometimes, Ren thought he’d never seen anything so lovely. But today, the beauty of his companion only confused him. Why did he find this man so exquisite when he wanted the girl so much? Why was Hux always a distraction?

At least he was a useful one. And now they got on well. He had grown fond of Hux.

But Hux wasn’t Rey. He could not give him what Rey could.

For his part, Hux tried with great difficulty not to watch Ren intently. He mightn’t possess the mystical powers of the Force, but he’d known for a long time that the scavenger girl would be a problem. For his goals, for the Order, for Ren. He did not think of her as he ate with Ren, feigning contentment and forcing food into his stomach so that Ren wouldn’t nag him about needing sustenance.

Ren didn’t let him get away with just tea and ration bars anymore.

Hux couldn’t really understand how it was possible for Ren to be so intimate with, so concerned for, so libidinous towards him, if he really only wanted the girl. He wanted to scream at Ren, “Look at us! Look at me! This is how you are with someone you want!”

Life with Ren was always rife with mixed signals, fraught with anxiety about his intentions and reactions. If Hux could be casual about their relationship, he would.

No, he wouldn’t. He was terrible at lying to himself. His childhood had beaten fancy and delusion from him.

When Ren left to train with his Knights, Hux bathed and dressed in a uniform akin to his First Order one, satiny and black, but fitted more closely to his body without the padding. It had made him feel self-conscious at first, until he’d seen how Ren’s eyes devoured him at a glance. Now, as he donned it, he felt a small wave of satisfaction.

At least Ren looked at him with desire. He’d take what he could get.

No, he wouldn’t. He wanted everything. All of Ren. Even if he lost everything else, if he had Ren he could survive it.

No, he couldn’t, he thought. He was born for power.

But, yes, something else in him said. If all you had was Kylo Ren, if he would be yours, you’d take that over everything else.

And when had that voice become right?

He chose to ignore it as he arrived back at his office, just as his droids were finished tidying up.

“Sir,” they beeped.

“Thank you,” he told them, and dismissed them.

He left his two guards at the door and strode to his desk. He sat on the edge facing Coruscant. Hideous, crowded, overly constructed Coruscant, with its endless buildings and layers of traffic. It was so blandly monochromatic, so pretentiously designed. He felt as though no building had much distinction from another. It made him miss the sleek design of the Finalizer, his beauty. No ship had been her equal, not even the Supremacy.

“Ugh,” Hux muttered. “I really am in a mood if I’m moping about my ship.”

He turned from the transparisteel and sat at his desk to work. He found himself staring at the same paragraph of the same report for a few minutes. With a sigh, he put his datapad down. So much for reports. He turned on his console to evaluate some plans he’d drawn up for galactic infrastructure. For a while, this distracted him. The plans for new schools on backwater planets, libraries, and transportation. He’d already sent some researchers and troops to study some of the more obscure cultures. He’d also set up hospitals, though some of the more renowned doctors and surgeons had balked at being sent to the Outer Rim. Not that he cared a whit for their opinions; he’d transferred some of them anyway. Now, everyone he’d shipped off was sending back their very useful statistics for analysis. 

He’d only planned out his reign for twenty years or so. Should anything happen to him, Ren and his clones would have everything they needed in place to rule without him. Provided Ren didn’t deviate from his plans. Or let the scavenger deviate.

Hux slammed his fist down on the console, and its graphs and statistics and copious amounts of data disappeared. He could still see their brightness against his lowered eyelids.

No, he told himself. There would be no scavenger. If Ren had her, the Resistance would destroy all his plans. She would. The galaxy was getting better because of him. He couldn't let Ren destroy this opportunity because of his desire for the girl. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been fighting a headache all morning, thanks to Ren; he thought endlessly about Ren’s words. Even if Ren had slept by him last night, Ren didn’t recant his statement.

Hux wasn’t his consort. Hux never would be.

What karking game were they playing then? Ren had been confused and mortified when Hux asked if Ren were polyamorous. How Hux still had to explain things to Ren at his age dismayed the older man.

And yet, what was he to think? When he’d asked that two years ago?

Never had he wished for the ability to wield the Force until now. Had he been so--gifted? cursed? both, it seemed--he could rule beside Ren. Ren would only long for Hux. No one could stand in his way. He could hold the power in their relationship. Never wonder if Ren would tire of him, or resent him, or use the Force against him.

He’d hold power over Ren.

Yet.

  
Hux knew at this point in their time together, he held no desire to hurt Ren. If Hux had the Force, he would only wish for Ren to know how much Hux--

Loved him.

And this was the crux of the matter. Hux loved him. Had for nearly as long as they’d known each other. Despite the fighting. By the time Crait happened, Hux’s loathing was informed by his love, by how much Ren had hurt him. How much power over him Ren actually possessed.

He would not lose Ren, nor his own position of power, nor what little place he had in Ren’s heart, to that girl.

He had Force users at his disposal. He need not trouble Ren at all. He need not tell Ren anything, until he and the clones had killed her and destroyed the Resistance. Without her, they lacked a powerful Force user, didn’t they?

Luke was gone.

Was Ren’s mother capable of…? Surely not, or she’d be wielding the powers herself.

He leaned back in his chair, far more luxurious than any of his old chairs on his Finalizer. Ren had insisted.

Ren.

Ren was his.

The galaxy was theirs.

The right side had won, and the galaxy never worked so well.

Hux would not allow Ren to destroy this: his dreams, his desires, his plans.

His Ren.

He opened a compartment atop his desk with the press of a button. From within he removed a small wooden box, intricately carved with knots and whorls. The reddish wood was shined to a high polish, even now, after over a year. With a tremulous breath, Hux slid back the lid carefully. It caught in its track for a moment, as if to mock him, before he managed to push it all the way with an insistent thumb.

Nestled inside amidst frothy black silk was a silver ring with a tiny piece of kyber set into it. He’d taken it from one of the sabers in Ren's collection, secretly, and had the ring made after their first year on Coruscant.

He gazed upon it sadly.

He’d intended to give Ren this ring upon the advent of their third year after their victory over the Resistance, to make it official. Hux wanted no one else.

Only Ren.

It had always been only Ren. The moment they’d met, despite Hux’s resentment and Ren’s arrogance, Hux had felt a pull towards Ren. Within months, he’d been pulled over the event horizon of the black hole that was Ren.

He put the ring away.

Eventually, yes. But best to take care of the girl first.

He pressed his comm.

“Asher,” he called.

After a moment, she responded, “Sir?”

“Send me Errol, would you? I’ve something about yesterday’s meeting I need to discuss with him.”

She paused. “Armitage--”

“It’s fine, Asher. Just send him, would you?” he said pleasantly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. I’ll expect him for lunch.”

“Sir.”

He thumbed his comm off.

He suspected he could trust Errol with this, though he’d need to be careful not to make the lad jealous. And Errol might have an idea which of his brothers might be up for a little side mission.

Yes, Hux had his own Force users.

The girl was a problem.

But perhaps soon, she would not be.

He stood from his desk and tinted the great window behind him for privacy. He strode to the wall and placed his hand upon a panel.

A hidden door slid open. Beyond the door was a long, high room; sensor lights lit up along the shelves that lined the walls. Many shelves, taller than either Ren or Hux, and each one containing Force relics, both dark and light. Between the shelves in the center of the tiled floor was a wide metal table flanked by two comfortable black desk chairs. There were books and scrolls, weapons and holocrons, and other strange items found by Ren and the Knights of Ren, or from Snoke's collection.

Here were relics known only to himself and Ren. They had spent many an hour here, cataloguing each artifact, each lightsaber. Here they were safe. Only Hux or Ren could access this room, and Hux refused to let any of the Knights of Ren in his office. And so Ren had allowed Hux to help. And Hux had learned quite a bit.

Things were here that could incapacitate a Force user. Kill one even.

Hux smiled.

His door chimed.

He returned to his desk, and the secret room closed. He opened his door and awaited his guest.

“Your grace,” Errol said and bowed at the waist. Without the formal garb and ceremonial makeup, the clone looked less like Ren’s twin and more like a younger sibling. His face was even and gently freckled, with fewer moles. His hair was a touch shorter and swept back from his angular face elegantly. He had a smile like a predator when he was in a mood.

“Errol, I’ve something I’d like to discuss,” Hux told him with a feral smile. 

Errol returned Hux’s smile with a sharklike one of his own.


	5. Family Tree's Losing All Its Leaves

Ren slammed a training droid into the wall.

His bare chest heaved from exertion. His fury hadn’t been this bad in some time. Hux forbade him from such destruction, and they took their frustrations out on each other behind closed doors, with no clothing. That sufficed for them, especially after, when they lay curled in each other’s arms.

This morning, Ren had thought they could reset, go back to normal. Hux had done nothing to indicate otherwise. But come lunch, after training with his knights, Hux refused to join him. That simply wasn’t done! Hux almost always met Ren for lunch. Ren insisted upon it, or Hux would go the entire day neglecting himself. He’d sent Valance to Hux’s office, but Valance had returned to him, demeanor resigned and put-upon, bearing the message that Hux would eat in his office and would return late tonight. That Ren shouldn’t wait for him to eat. And Ren knew Hux had spent the entire morning overthinking everything and working himself into an angry dither. Well, Ren could be angry too! And Hux would do well to remember that!

He was slashing his way through expensive machinery, so Hux would have to notice him. Would have to at least scold him. They could at least angerfuck and see where that got them!

Ren snarled and thrashed his way through another droid. Still unsatisfied, he howled and slashed at the wall, the mats, the shelves of padding and armor and weapons.

“Fuck!” he roared.

Behind him, someone calmly clucked their tongue disdainfully.

His hackles rose. He spun around to berate whomever had infringed upon his private training.

“Hello, Ben,” his uncle said blandly. 

Ren’s eyes widened before his face twisted itself into a scowl.

“What are you doing here, Skywalker?” 

“Can’t I drop in to see my…” He paused a moment, considering. “My nephew,” he finished. “I’d have said my favorite, but well--” He shrugged, strangely impudent for an old dead man.

“Your only,” Ren snipped.

“Meh,” Luke returned. “Poe is as good as.”

Ren’s face turned feral in its rage.

“Luke studied him. “For someone who forsook his family, you seem awfully jealous about my statement.”

“It isn’t jealousy, old man. Deceased old man. It’s disgust. You throw away the defective kid and adopt the golden boy? Fuck that. I don’t need any of that. I need no one.”

So saying, Ren spun on his heel and began to storm off, muttering to himself.

“Strange you say that,” Luke called, obviously heckling him. Ren could hear the vicious smile in his voice. He loathed the sight of Luke. Luke who betrayed him, who nearly killed him. Who mocked him and humiliated him in front of the First Order.

Only Hux had been able to fix the damage Luke had done.

His Hux.

Ren paused. He attempted not to give his uncle the satisfaction of knowing he’d affected Ren, but he was curious to see what retort Luke could possibly offer.

“You think--” Luke began, and Ren could feel his uncle approach through the force. It felt strange, sensing his incorporeal body reaching out, a peculiar tingling sensation spreading as Luke touched his arm with a ghostly hand.

“Do not touch me!” Ren snarled.

Luke pulled back, but not with anything remotely akin to concern. He held up his translucent hands.

“Fine. But don’t lie to me and say you need no one. You think you need Rey--”

“She needs me! She is my equal, and we should rule together!”

Luke raised a brow; his lips turned down in distaste. Disbelief spread through his presence in the Force. He hummed in his throat before answering.

“So. Have you discussed that with her? She’d like a say in the matter. And also, she thinks you’re terrible.”

Ren threw his lightsaber at Luke, but Luke vanished, only to reappear beside Ren.

“Also,” Luke said again, and Ren started at how close he was. “ Also, Ben, you’ve shown you very much need that Chancellor of yours.”

“Don’t mention him. That’s different,” Ren replied with a growl.

Once again, he felt Luke’s steady gaze upon him. He could feel the dead Jedi gently nudging his mind. Luke’s intrusion infuriated Ren. Without knowing how he truly felt, he unconsciously grew protective of any thoughts or emotions regarding Hux. He forced his uncle away from his mind.

  
Luke’s eyes were wide, even more blue than in his life.

“Interesting,” was all he said.

“Leave me. I will not allow you to spy on me.”

“You really can’t stop me, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then leave!”

“Actually, Ben, I came to tell you that your mother is ill. She didn’t want me to, but I thought you needed to know. You need to stop this madness and go to her."

Ren clenched his jaw.

“This is not madness. We are achieving great things. I will show her peace and prosperity in the galaxy. Then she shall come to me, and so will the girl.”

“No, Ben. They won’t. But you deserved to know,” Luke told him.

And vanished.

The moment he no longer felt his uncle’s presence, Ren began to tremble.

No matter how he tried, he could never fully rid his heart of Leia. He couldn’t kill her three years ago, and he hadn’t been able to since. His strength left him, and he fell to his knees in despair.

He needed--what did he need? Who could help him?

Reaching out to Leia or Rey didn’t occur to him at first. But then he tried to find his mother.

Once he had wept, he went in search of the only one who could help him.

Hux.

  
  


*

  
  


Hux sat at his desk, working as always. Just because he was Chancellor didn't mean he had less work than he had as a general. Actually, it did, but only just. With nearly everything going so smoothly, he found this newest position the easiest he’d ever achieved. To be sure, he attended so many functions with all manner of strange peoples; but the initial stress of transitioning the galaxy to be ruled under the First Order meant that, now, he accomplished more of his ambitions with each passing day. The galaxy fell in line with his authority. Formerly destitute planets began to be developed. The very wealthy might despise him, but only because they no longer maintained control of all the capital.

He felt good about himself and his accomplishments. This was rare, and he drank it up like the best twenty-one year single malt whiskey.

And Errol would help him rid himself of the thorn in his side that was the scavenger.

Yes, he was well pleased.

Currently, he studied a culture report covering religious beliefs of a small tribe on a moon of Endor. Halfway through a translation note on the language, his skin began to prickle.

“Ren?” he called quietly, though he could tell instantly it was not the Supreme Leader.

And there was no response.

A chill went up his spine. He glanced behind himself to the massive window, but the transparisteel revealed nothing amiss. Still, the feeling did not release him from his inherent paranoia. Someone watched him. He knew not whom it could be, but he gathered it was Force-related. He sighed in resignation. But when he felt a light pressure in his mind, he grew agitated.

“Get out of my head,” he ordered. “Errol, if it is you, cease this disrespect instantly!”

He wasn’t convinced it was Errol, though he didn’t really know what the lad felt like. He knew it wasn’t Ren. He had memorized long ago how Ren felt inside him, in every way he possibly could.

He sighed once more.

And the door to his office opened and dispelled his disconcerted feelings.

Of course, no one but Ren would ever enter without permission.

“What is it, Ren?” Hux asked.

His mouth dropped open when he raised his head to meet Ren’s eyes.

Ren’s repurposed mask gazed back.

Hux had remade it himself, rather than allow the blacksmith of Ren’s knights to repair it. And it was a thing of beauty, he had to admit, loathe as he was to admit it. He’d repaired and improved the vocorder and breathing apparatus; he’d also improved upon all the sensory intakes. And he soldered it together with vibrant red resin that etched a delicate river through the shell of black plasteel.

And he’d also forbidden Ren to wear it alone in his presence.

So now that Ren stood before him wearing it, he knew it meant nothing favorable.

Ren removed the helmet.

Hux immediately stood and went to him. He couldn't even curse himself for his inability to resist the teary doe eyes of Kylo Ren.

He took Ren’s mask and placed it upon his desk. Then he took Ren’s hands and led him to the sofa, where he gathered his Supreme Leader, his most precious one, into his arms and began to stroke his hair.

He never could resist the tragic face of Ren. It was a flaw, a horrible one, a fatal one, he knew.

“What is it, baby?” he asked gently.

Ren shrugged, hiding his head against Hux’s neck.

The scent of Hux always calmed him.

They sat quietly for a few more moments before Hux tried again.

“What is it? What happened?”

This was the most they’d spoken since this morning, after breakfast. Hux had valiantly ignored him since then. There was nothing to discuss--or, rather, he knew he could not bear to hear Ren soliloquize in detail all the reasons he would never be Ren’s consort. He was nothing to Ren, but Ren was everything to him. He’d wanted to argue viciously; his instinct was to lay waste to someone who had hurt him. But at this point, with Ren, whom he loved so foolishly, he found he could not. For his own peace of mind, he’d ignored him most of the day instead.

And plotted with Errol. Another reason he’d ignored Ren.

But now, he hated his inability to mend whatever was wrong with Ren.

Ren sniffed against his shoulder, and Hux knew he’d find a trail of snot there later.

“I saw Luke,” Ren muttered.

“What?” Hux asked in disbelief. “But he’s dead.”

“The Force. It’s like, some people can return as a ghost, of sorts.”

“So now you’re haunted by spirits?” Hux asked, unable to stop the sarcasm from creeping in.

Ren tensed, tried to pull away.

Hux held him tightly. “I’m sorry. I am simply--confused how Skywalker could become a ghost. It’s a little shocking, you must understand, Ren.”

It didn’t occur to Hux that he had just apologized to Ren. It rarely did, these days.

“Well, he did,” Ren grumbled petulantly. “He came to mock me. And--” Ren tried to muffle a sob.

“And what?” Hux prompted gently.

“My mother is ill, Armitage.”

“Ill? Is she dying? Did he say that?”

“No, but--”

“So it is a ploy, love--”

Ren shook his head. “I can feel it. I reached out, and I could feel it. Her body is killing itself. I should be glad. The Dark would be pleased. But she’s my mo--”

He began to weep.

Hux had never actually seen Ren like this. Not in the beginning, not their first time, not even after he’d killed his father. He did not know what to do.

Ren whimpered against him.

Once, not so very long ago, Hux would have relished discovering this weakness in Ren. Right after Crait, right before Starkiller Base crumbled to nothing. Once, Ren had left him agonized and bitter, humiliated. But truthfully, Ren was his weakness. Even when he believed he should be well rid of Ren, he could not actually rid himself of the great fool.

So now, Ren’s pain was his.

He let Ren cling to him. He pulled his legs over Ren’s to cover him, to protect this delicate creature with every fiber of his being. His uniform became rumpled, and he failed to notice. He stroked Ren’s giant, glorious head and murmured in his adorably huge ears. After a while, he bade Ren to sit up and drink some water. He put Ren’s helm back on to protect his sorrow, and led him back to their quarters, Endor report be damned.

Ren needed him.

He loved the privilege of Ren needing him, as no one else needed him. He fed Ren some soup and then put him to bed. He stripped and curled up behind Ren, holding him tight and close, comforting him.

  
  


*

  
  


Pryde loathed the Night Buzzard. It was a dank, dark ship, crammed with imitation Sith artifacts and covered in the disorganized clutter of weapons and armor. Void knew what else.

Sniffing with disdain, he gingerly plucked a used towel from the seat in which he’d planned to sit, but then thought better of it and wiped his fingers on his pants. He decided standing was preferable.

This was the one place on Coruscant no one would spy on him.

“Well?” he asked impatiently.

Trudgeon stretched out his legs in front of him, forcing Pryde to take a step back. He frowned at the knight, but that infernal mask covered the knight’s expression.

“Unfortunately, you sent us on a wild porg chase, sir,” Trudgeon replied, the honorific sounding unctuous coming from his mask.

“I did no such thing. The intel was good. It isn’t my fault you didn’t find it.”

“It wasn’t there to be found.”

“Well, it’s somewhere. We need it!”

“And well I know this, Pryde,” Trudgeon snapped. Pryde jumped. “But it is nowhere. Sloane hid it well.”

“Well,” Pryde sniffed, “we’ll just have to keep looking then, won’t we?”


	6. Tendons That We Are

The next morning, Ren wouldn’t get up. Nor did Hux have the heart to rouse him. Not yet--let him mourn. As long as his emotions posed no threat to their burgeoning empire, Hux could allow Ren to have time to process. And Hux essentially ran their empire. He needed Ren, but the Order was perfectly fine with just Hux at the helm for now.

Hux dressed and then perched beside Ren on their bed. Ren’s bleary eyes rolled open to stare at him. Red-rimmed, weepy, unable to focus at first as Hux leaned over him. Hux stroked Ren’s hair, ran his thumb gently over Ren’s cheek. Hux bent over to kiss his temple and murmur quietly to him.

“I’ll leave food for you, right there on the bureau, all right?” he whispered. “I’ll take care of everything today, baby. And I'll come back early for lunch, shall I?”

Ren shrugged.

“I shall. Do you want me to send anyone to be with you whilst I’m gone?”

Ren shook his head.

“No one? At all?" Hux urged gently. “One of the knights? Perhaps Vicrul, or--”

“Valance. Just him.”

Hux paused. Valance usually attended meetings as Ren’s bodyguard. Not that Ren needed one. Not that Ren really ever attended meetings.

No, Hux could make do.

“Of course, love. I’ll send him right away.”

He kissed Ren’s cheek and stood. He very dearly wished to stay and watch over him. Talk to him. Do anything if it only meant Ren might feel better. But he’d cleared his schedule once this week already and dared not do it again. He left the bedroom and entered their kitchen to prepare something simple, light, and a little sweet for Ren, and then left it on their dresser for him. He watched the still form, completely obscured by their blankets and pillows, hiding away from everything.

And so he forced himself to leave Ren. And wondered at his own predilection now to coddle Ren. He thought back to the days of antagonism and bitterness, spurred on by Snoke’s meddling in their relationship. Hux knew the old fart had been the reason they’d fallen apart in the first place; the reason they’d been at each other’s throats. However they had determined to reconcile and cooperate Hux no longer recalled. Not specifically. Perhaps it had been necessity, and then smaller things building until they had wound up talking and laughing, and then kissing.

Whatever happened, Hux never questioned it, not when it had given him all he’d ever wanted--Ren most of all.

Ren!

Ren was a weakness in which he decided to happily indulge.

As he moved to leave their quarters, Millicent meowed from their couch. Hux stared at her and then returned to open the bedroom door a crack.

“Watch over him for me,” he told her as he petted her head.

She blinked slowly and resumed her nap.

He grabbed his comm and his datapad, left Valance a message, and made his way to his first task for the day.

  
  


*

  
  


Not long after Hux sent him a message, Valance found himself in the chambers of the Supreme Leader and his consort.

His not-consort, Valance thought grimly.

Once, not so very long ago, he himself had wanted Hux. When he first met the general, Valance, barely an adult, had hidden blushing under his mask as the other Knights of Ren complained about the human’s arrogance, his rigid ways, his scrawny body. They knew him, vaguely, before Valance and Ren had ever met him.

And both Valance and Ren had been stricken by the general that first time.

The only reason Valance had exorcised any attachment he felt for Hux was the attraction he saw growing betwixt Hux and Ren.

Valance favored thin human men. He always had. He knew far more than did Ren about such things, despite their age difference; he’d had to advise Ren on how to behave towards Hux. How to kiss, how to fuck. Asher had suffered through many evenings of watching what Ren insisted on calling instructional holovids, but were really just porn.

“How in the world does one even get in that position?” she’d asked, nonplussed. “Why in all Sith hells would anyone do that?”

Ren would blush and stammer. Only Valance had any experience, and he would expound upon his knowledge, glad to finally have things to teach his two dearest friends.

And now Ren had surpassed the master.

Not that Ren had shared much before Asher had ordered him to shut his mouth or face her wrath. But enough to know Hux had experience. Plenty of it. Many a night, Valance had indulged himself with fantasies of all the positions into which the general could get.

Ah, the innocent days of youth!

Now he stood in their parlor, mildly embarrassed at having to enter their bedroom. When he called, Ren didn’t answer, and he cursed in his guttural native language.

Knocking lightly upon the door, he pushed his head into the room. Upon the bed he saw only a large, lumpen shape, presumably Ren. Millicent raised her head from behind the doleful lump and chirped.

“Hey, girl. Okay if I come in?”

The lump stirred.

“Sire,” Valance called softly.

“Val?” Ren’s voice came raggedly from the bed.

He sounded congested and hoarse.

Valance entered the room and padded across the floor in his socked feet; his shoes remained at the main entrance, as per Hux’s orders. The man hated a dirty floor. Valance approached and flopped onto Hux’s side of the bed. He was very nearly the same size as Ren, but his master huddled tightly into himself, so that he appeared smaller than Valance.

For the longest time, until Hux, Valence was the only person who either bothered to attempt to, or to actually succeed in, touching Ren. At the temple, Ren, Asher, and he had all been the misfit children and had clung together. Even now, with Ren irascible and supreme, he considered the peculiar child of Organa and Solo his brother. And for this brother he still cared deeply. He reached out a hand to rub Ren’s back through the blankets.

“I’m here, brother,” he murmured. “Hux told me what happened.”

Ren curled himself more tightly.

“It’s okay to be upset, Kylo.”

“Please--” Ren muttered.

“Hmm? What do you need?”

“Make him go away!” Ren cried.

Valance yanked his hand back in shock. Who the hells did he mean? Surely not Hux, never Hux--

“Oh, come on, Ben. You could have come to her at any time over the years,” a voice huffed. “Are you telling me you actually care?”

Valance’s eyes widened as he gazed to the chair in the corner. The shadows could not obscure the hazy blue form seated there. He knew that frown well. Quite well indeed.

“Master--” he began.

Luke looked at him, stricken for a moment, and sighed in resignation.

Ren rolled over to look at Valance.

“What does he want with me?” Ren whispered. He’d not looked this lost in a very long time.

“I want to know what you have to say to your mother, Ben.”

“I don’t know!” Ren yelled.

“Hey!” Valance shouted. He stood and positioned himself between Ren and the ghost of their first master, Luke Skywalker.

“Lay off, old man,” Valance growled. “You are part of the reason he’s here, you remember.”

Luke’s gaze dropped. “As if I could forget.” He raised his eyes after a moment though, and added, “She wants to know what he says. If. If he’ll talk to her.”

“Why doesn’t she reach out then?” Valance demanded.

Luke shrugged. “Same reason he doesn’t? They don’t know how to talk to each other anymore, if they ever did. And, you know, opposite sides in the war and all.”

“Maybe let him process first,” Valance snapped.

“And how long will that take?”

“Well, you certainly aren’t helping to expedite things, are you?”

As Luke paused, considering, Ren crawled towards Valance to huddle into his side.

It had been so long since they’d done this, Valance was surprised by the lump in his throat.

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right,” Luke said stiffly. He sighed and stood, gazed at the plush carpet below the chair and table beside him. Then he added, “When you are ready, call for me through the Force. I’ll be waiting. But,” he cautioned, “we don’t know how long she can wait, Ben.”

So saying, he disappeared.

Valance stayed by Ren all morning, huddling with him, wishing he could do more to help his friend, his brother. Grateful that there was some kinship betwixt them after all.

  
  


*

  
  


Hux looked at the chronometer on his wall. Perhaps it was a silly archaic quirk, but he liked having it there to remind him of the time, if he wasn’t looking at his pad. And he liked that it blatantly proclaimed his time as valuable to anyone who thought to waste it. Many an old Imperial had shot it a scornful look, until they caught their Chancellor eyeing it wearily during irrelevant meetings requested by aforementioned old men.

Now, however, he didn’t look at it wearily but impatiently. It wasn’t that this meeting was a waste--far from it, but he dearly wished to get back to Ren.

The chief medical officer, also Hux and Ren’s personal physician, sat on the other side of Hux's vast desk. Beside him sat A’Yara. She wore her new uniform under a lab coat with the Order’s medical insignia on the sleeve. They both stared at Hux, nonplussed, though A’Yara hid her surprise far better than did the doctor who had been with the Order for decades.

“The incoming patient will be General Organa?” the doctor choked out.

“Yes,” Hux said patiently. “She is ill, and she is, as you well know, the mother of our worthy Supreme Leader. And it is good publicity for the First Order to show mercy and offer a helping, healing hand to our weakened enemy.”

“To be sure, but--”

“But nothing. Will you accept your task, or will someone else take your job?”

“Of course, your grace, I am more than happy to do whatever you wish--”

“Good. See to it.”

A’Yara spoke up at last. “And, may I ask, your grace, what need have you of me?”

He pinned her with a glance.

“You’ve only been here a couple of days, but I read your reports and your proposals, and I’d like you to be in charge of the research of Organa’s illness. Why no one thought to put you in medical research before this I cannot fathom. You’re quite brilliant.”  
  


A’Yara flushed at the praise. The chief medical officer looked askance at her, but he dared not question Hux. The old doctor was exceptional at his job, but he retained the prejudices of the Empire and subsequently a good chunk of the Order. The one thing Hux could say in favor of the Resistance was that it encouraged diversity. And Hux had reasoned long ago that, to survive and flourish in this galaxy, it was wise to do so.

“I need my best medical minds on this. It is important. I know you both will succeed.”

The two nodded, and Hux dismissed them. As they left, and the door slid shut behind them, the doctor studied A’Yara once more, sniffed dismissively, and left.

She scowled at his retreating back.

“Pay that old ass no mind,” said a voice to her left.

She turned. One of those giant Praetorian Guards seemed to be staring at her, but it was difficult to tell.

The other guard sighed. “We are on duty.”

The first looked at his companion and shrugged. “So? All those old geezers are bigots, Chero.” He turned his mask towards A’Yara again. “If you are Hux’s though, no one will bother you. If he’s taken a shine to you, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to prove yourself!”

The guard sounded young, excited, and, she thought, rather simple. He reminded her of an eager pup. As she thought this, she saw his shoulders slump.

“Sorry to bother you,” he murmured.

Her brow furrowed.

“No bother. None at all. Thank you--” she floundered a moment before finishing kindly, “guard.”

She could tell he perked up a little.

“Kazan,” he said.

She smiled a little. “Thank you, Kazan.”

And she left to ponder her newfound responsibility and the trust the Chancellor had in her.

“Well,” Chero snorted, “she spoke to you. Are you happy now?”

“Oh, stars! That was, she was--shit fuck!” And Kazan gave an excited little squeal.

“Are you a child, brother?” Chero laughed.

“No, hush,” Kazan replied haughtily. “I am smitten.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Are you certain of this plan, Armitage?” Asher asked as she stood beside his chair. She’d remained silently at his side for the entire meeting. Of course, out of duty, but also out of shock.

“No, I’m not. Not at all. One one hand. On the other--yes, absolutely. I am right--it makes us look karking good. And, even if it didn’t--” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’d do it for Kylo, no matter what,” she finished.

“That doesn’t leave this room,” he muttered, going tense.

“Of course not, your grace.”

“Though everyone will already be saying it,” he added with resignation in his voice.

“Yes, they will.”

“We’ll need the Rens to guard her too now. I’ll have Phasma added to the roster to guard Ren and me. She’ll have people she trusts.”

“All the same, I’d like to vet them, sir.”

“Of course.”

He looked at his chronometer, large, chrome, analogue to further frustrate the old men of the dead Empire. He rose abruptly.

“I need to return to Ren,” he announced.

She followed him out the door. Chero and Kazan flanked the Chancellor as he made his way through the halls and into the turbolift back to his quarters where Ren waited.

When he entered their bedroom, Asher close behind, he stopped short. Curled in a ball against a dozing Valance was Ren, still burrowed in the sanctuary of their bedclothes. Behind him, he heard Asher chuckle.

“Honestly, that’s so typical,” she said fondly.

She walked over to the bed and began tapping on Valance’s bald pate until he awakened with a growl.

“Knock it off, Ash!”

“What a lazy day you’re having, Val! It’s time I put you to work. Come on,” she laughed.

The ease with which they spoke and joked with each other always astonished Hux. Even with Ren they had an intimacy he’d never had the opportunity to share with anyone. He’d had little camaraderie in his life; only with Phasma had he felt a slight kinship, before--

Before.

Before he rescued her and made her more machine than human. Almost like tales he’d heard of Vader. It wasn’t as though she didn’t forgive him; she hadn’t wanted to die. But their erstwhile friendship had become different. Stilted. Occasionally, he felt something akin to that with Asher and Valance, but they were Ren’s comrades. They only concerned themselves with Hux because of Ren and Ren’s empire, he was certain.

As he watched the two, and then the mumbling form of Ren joining them in their bed--his and Ren’s--Hux once again felt that secret pang of loneliness he’d never managed to destroy. He was outside this little haven of affection and familiarity, as he always would be.

He took a step backward through the door.

“Hux,” Ren called. He held out an arm to Hux, and the Chancellor nearly ran to him.

Hux schooled his expression into impassive concern, so that Ren wouldn’t know, wouldn’t see, how desperate he actually was to say he loved Ren.

“Are you hungry?” he asked instead.

“Maybe. A bit,” Ren grumbled like a child.

“Well, let’s get you up and boot these two, shall we? And--” Hux paused.

“And what?”

Hux shot a look at Asher, who nodded and began to pull Valance back towards the main door.

Ren studied Hux curiously as they waited for the two to make their exit.

Once they were alone, Hux sat beside Ren on the bed and took his hand.

Ren’s eyes grew moist, worried.

“Is it my mother? Is she--”

“No!” Hux exclaimed. “No, baby, no, she’s still alive. But I’ve had an idea I wanted to run by you. Or, really, I suppose, to tell you I’m already commencing.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed.

“Well,” Hux began, no longer certain if his surprise would be well received, but willing to press on anyway. “We’re taking a room on the floor below this and making it a medical suite. We’ll be doing research--”

“And? So?” Ren pressed, impatient and confused. “What’s your point, Armitage?”

“Well, would you be amenable, Ren, to moving your mother here? So we can try to--save her, I suppose?”

Hux looked shyly through his lashes at Ren’s shocked face, at the tear slipping down his glorious proboscis.

“Thank you,” Ren whispered, and Hux’s heart sang.


	7. My Love Keeps Growin'

Immediately after lunch--for which Hux took an unprecedented hour and a half--he took the turbolift down a floor to check on the plans for General Organa’s personal hospice. Though it had only been a handful of hours, he had every confidence that A’Yara and the doctor had made great headway. As he entered the foyer, a medical droid greeted him. It led him to the main room, which was already in a state of disarray. A’Yara stood beside a young tech, gesturing earnestly at the walls. To his credit, the young man didn't seem to care that she wasn’t human. Instead, he gazed at her, attentive, almost enraptured.

She paused and noticed Hux.

“Your grace,” she said and gave a little bow.

“Where is Dr. Parsec?” Hux asked.

A’Yara and the tech both looked uncomfortable; neither spoke.

A breathless voice gasped out behind him from the doorway.

“Your grace! Forgive me, I’d no clue you were here! Or I’d have been better prepared!”

Hux turned to stare at the nervously twitching person behind him. They were of average height and build, with wavy hair that gently swept their shoulders. They wore spectacles and a nervous grin that bordered on paranoia.

“And who,” Hux asked, eyes narrowing, “might you be?”

Their mouth gaped and closed wordlessly as they trembled before his scrutiny.

A’Yara came to their rescue.

“Pardon, your grace. This is Dr. Taro. They are my partner in this endeavor.” She spoke carefully, weighing her words against his mood.

“And why is Dr. Taro here in lieu of the doctor whom I assigned?”

A’Yara fell silent and looked to the ground.

Taro approached cautiously, wringing their hands. “Ah, forgive me, your grace, but he assigned me here. I am to help A’Yara. He--” they paused to gulp, “he refused to work with a Twi’lek to heal Resistance scum. And I quote. Your grace.”

Hux looked first at the doctor and then at A’Yara.

“So. You are telling me,” Hux said venomously, and Taro trembled to hear it, “telling me, the Chancellor of the Empire, that the head doctor refused to obey my direct order? The command of the Chancellor and, by extension, his Supreme Leader?”

Taro’s eyes grew large behind their glasses.

“I--I assure you, I am at least as capable, your grace--” Taro stammered.

“At this moment, that is not the question,” Hux snapped. A’Yara took an almost protective step towards Taro. Hux sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You will leave your credentials for me to examine, Dr. Taro.”

“Yes, your grace,” they replied in hushed tones.

“And if your qualifications are anywhere near as good as Parsec’s, you might find yourself replacing him”

“What--oh, no, no sir--”

“Yes, yes. Now please, I’d like to see what you two have planned for the Supreme Leader’s mother.”

Over the next hour, A’Yara led him through their plans for General Organa. The tests, the procedures, some ideas A’Yara had for treatment. Occasionally, Taro would pipe up with a comment to clarify something. Their demeanor changed once they spoke on their expertise. They were confident and concise and clearly cared a great deal.

“Do you care that General Organa is technically our enemy?” Hux asked Taro at one point.

They paused to stare at him, almost in disbelief.

“I’ve been part of the Order for years, since I was a child. The Order gave me opportunities I never would have had, your grace,” they said earnestly. “But I am a doctor. It is my duty to help the sick, and doubly so if my patient is the Supreme Leader’s mother. And you command, so I must obey.”

Hux found himself impressed by this answer. And by the simultaneous loyalty to the Order--to him, to Ren--and their inherent goodness. Few people remained so pure in the Order.

“Thank you for your loyalty, Taro,” he said. “You are an asset to the Order.”

They covered their mouth in shock. “Th-thank you, your grace!”

A’Yara stared at Hux in disbelief. He caught her eye, raised a brow. She looked as though she had to recalibrate everything she had ever heard about Armitage Hux.

Then she continued her tour of Leia Organa’s quarters.

  
  


*

  
  


Ren sat quietly on the bedroom floor. The door was open, and Millicent lay sleeping in his lap. He shifted subtly underneath her; she awakened briefly to poke a claw at his leg in warning. He resettled his ass on the floor and used the rhythm of her purr to help him concentrate on his meditation. He often meditated with her now, much to her owner’s amusement.

He counted the rise and fall of her purring and soon lost himself in the sound. After a while, he felt his mind slip from its constraints and reach out into the galactic ether, in search of someone.

His uncle.

He tried not to think about what he’d do if Luke played him false. He tried to believe Luke was waiting. Even though everything in him ordered him not to trust old Skywalker.

Yet, after only about fifteen minutes, Ren had his response.

He opened his eyes as Millicent meowed and scrambled from his lap to stare at the blue-lit figure before her.

Interesting. So Millie could see Luke. Both Ren and Luke himself stared at her in fascination.

Then she huffed and wandered off, clearly deeming the Force ghost beneath her attention.

“Luke,” Ren said.

“Ben.”

Ren scowled.

Luke sighed and asked, “What do you want me to tell her?”

Ren bit his lower lip. Took a breath, remembered Hux’s words. Just do what Hux said; he always fixes things, Ren thought.

For a moment, he faltered.

Hux always fixes things, even when I don’t deserve it.

“Kylo Ren?” Luke asked. “Hello?”

Ren shook himself, stunned by Luke using his correct name.

“I have a proposition for her,” Ren said without a tremble in his voice. Hux would be proud of his control.

“A proposition?” Luke repeated, clearly aghast. “For your own mother?”

“Listen!” Ren snapped. He shut his mouth and took a deep breath, thought of Hux, his script for this meeting. After a moment, Ren opened his eyes. “The First Order,” he began, “has access to the most advanced medicine in the galaxy, and we have the best researchers. Our proposition is that--” he paused for a moment to recall his script, “--Mother come to us and stay here, so we can study and treat her illness. We ask for nothing else. Not the Resistance hideout, not hostages. Just Mother.”

“Who is we? Your Chancellor? And he has no plans to kill her or try to get information from her? I find that highly suspect.”

Ren frowned darkly. “You have my word. He has no intentions of doing anything else but helping her.”

“And how do we believe that?”

“Because!” Ren shouted, and then growled in frustration. “I’d know. He’s the one who thought of it. He’s doing it for me!”

Luke stared at Ren in something akin to shock. Both because of the unexpected fact of Hux’s attempt at altruism, and the fact that Ren didn’t seem to comprehend why Hux suggested this, probably planned it. But Luke opted not to discuss Hux, for many reasons, not the least of which was the strange behavior Ren exhibited towards Hux.

What made Luke so nonplussed over and over was how Ren seemed to feel so much, but somehow didn’t comprehend what he felt.

Luke studied his nephew for a moment.

“Just Leia?” he asked. “You aren’t using her to destroy her people?”

“No,” Ren said, with a valiant attempt at civility.

Luke nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll discuss it with her and return with her answer.”

Ren nodded. After an awkward moment, he muttered, “Thank you.”

Luke shrugged. “You should thank your Chancellor,” he replied, and vanished.

  
  


*

  
  


Over the course of the afternoon, Hux became increasingly anxious about Ren. The moment he walked into their quarters, Hux knew something had happened. Divesting himself of his boots at the door, his gloves and cloak, he crept into the living room, on guard until he’d gauged Ren’s mood. If things had gone poorly, he’d need to determine quickly how best to handle Ren.

As he stepped from the foyer into the sitting room, he glimpsed Ren disappearing into their kitchen. With furrowed brow, he followed him.

And stopped in the doorway in astonishment.

Atop the counter were dozens of cookies. Hux was not familiar with them, but they seemed to have little brown bits in them, and they were brown themselves. Not a particularly appetizing color, brown, but perhaps they were chocolate?

Then he noticed the countertops, the conservator, everything gleaming; and Ren hunched over a mop, beginning his work on the floor.

“What in the great blue blazes of Mustafar are you doing, Ren?” he asked.

Ren started, splattering water across the floor and across his bare feet.

“We’ve droids for that, dearest.”

“Hux!” Ren yelped. “I--I wanted to do it myself. I know how. I wanted--”

Ren looked so distraught that Hux softened, approached him gently. He placed a hand to Ren’s cheek.

“What happened, baby? Is she coming?”

Ren gulped and leaned into his palm.

“Yeah. Yes. Luke brought her response back quickly,” he said.

“And?” Hux prompted.

“I tried to do just as you said. I tried not to get pissed at him. And she’s--she is coming,” Ren stammered. His eyes were bright, his lower lip trembling.

Hux wanted to kiss him.

“Well done, Ren, well done. So that’s why--?” Hux waved his free hand to indicate the spotless state of the kitchen.

Ren shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You did really well,” Hux said. And it was true; he was impressed. He spent so much time cleaning up after Ren, having droids clean up after Ren, he found himself quite nonplussed at the care Ren had given their kitchen. “Wow!” Hux added, almost embarrassed by the word, far more than his own surprise.

“I did the fresher too. And our bedroom. I haven’t started anywhere else yet,” Ren said. His voice was quiet, uncertain. All the control he’d had in his conversation with Luke was gone, had worn him out. His voice came tremulously, and he quivered like a nervous tooka. Hux had never seen him like this. 

“And cookies?”

Ren nodded. Hux stared back at him, enraptured by this new aspect of a man he’d known for the better part of a decade.

This was his, this quiet vulnerability. Not hers, never the scavenger’s. Hux would kill to protect this, right here. He’d cede the entire galaxy to Organa to keep this. Not for the first time, the realization of his adoration for his Supreme Leader mortified him in its truth.

Meanwhile, Ren had plucked a cookie from its place on the parchment paper and held it to Hux’s lips. He looked as if he were desperate for approval. That, at least, was more familiar.

“Ah, you know I don’t favor sweets, my sweet,” Hux said with a smirk.

“Just--you’ve never had my cookies. I made them once or twice with...my mother. It’s one of the few good memories. But it only happened a couple times. She was always too busy, and she wasn’t much of a cook, never mind a baker. Sometimes, I’d make them by myself, like doing it could summon her through the Force to me.” Ren shrugged. He gave Hux a tragic look. “It never worked out that way though.”

Hux studied Ren. He reached for the hand in which Ren held the cookie and brought it to his lips. He bit into the cookie. Ren’s face grew expectant.

It was soft, gooey, still warm from the oven. And so much chocolate! It surprised him how good the cookie was, not too sweet, a hint of bitter. Ren fed him the rest of the cookie; Hux closed his eyes and allowed it. 

It was something so simple, so domestic, this moment. But Hux had never experienced anything like this before Ren. He’d not been given food for simple pleasure because so often, there was little food to be had when he was a child. And when there was food, old men got the best of it and left the dregs to the cadets. Something so silly as this cookie represented whole lives that Hux had never known. Not until he was nearly a middle-aged man.

“Delicious,” he murmured.

Ren leaned in to lick chocolate from the corner of Hux’s lips.

“You like it?”

“Very much so.”

Ren looked slightly relieved. As though he were crumbling, and Hux was the foundation keeping him upright. Again, Hux was stricken. He so wished to keep this moment, every moment like this they shared, forever. To have only these moments.

Now, he leaned in to kiss Ren.

Ren responded almost shyly in return.

Delicious, Hux thought.

“I think,” Hux murmured against Ren’s ear, breathy, voice hitching, ‘the rest can wait until later. I’ll help you, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Ren said quietly.

Hux pulled Ren into the living room, to their sofa. It was a long, circular sectional sunk deep into the floor. He unfastened his own tunic as they went, dropped his pants, until he was naked and seated upon the couch, staring up at Ren, whose shirt was somewhere on the floor with Hux’s. Hux gazed hungrily at Ren’s voluptuous bosom, and he felt his urgency grow.

“Come,” he ordered, held out a hand to Ren.

Ren finished stripping and obeyed his Chancellor. He straddled Hux’s lap, and their mouths found each other.

In the silence afterward, as Ren rested his head upon Hux’s chest, the Chancellor murmured quietly into his hair, all the things they never said at any other times except these. After a while, Ren roused from his dazed state and propped his pointy chin on Hux’s sternum.

“Ouch,” Hux said.

Ren lifted his head without apology.

“You always talk afterwards,” Ren noted.

“Yes, well, in my heightened emotional state, I apparently need the catharsis of sentimentality,” Hux replied airily, as only he could about such things. As only he could pretend, because he feared scaring Ren with the truth of his feelings spoken aloud. Surely Ren, the fool, knew, but continuing this charade ensured that Hux could remain by his side.

“Kriff, Hux,” Ren rolled his eyes. “What a way with words.” He sat up, and Hux followed suit.

“So, my darling, when should we expect your mother, the esteemed general?” Hux asked as he gave a full-body stretch.

It distracted Ren for a moment before he answered. Hux relished the appreciation from Ren when he got it.

But then Ren shook himself and mumbled.

“What?” Hux yelped.

General Organa would be there by week’s end.

In three days.


	8. My Kind's Your Kind

As Hux was no doubt tending to the Supreme Leader, Errol spent the afternoon examining the strange old Sith holocron Hux had pressed into his hands.

According to Hux, it could incapacitate a Jedi, any Force-user theoretically--even kill one. And Hux wanted Rey out of his way. The scavenger. Errol hardly knew what she looked like, only that she’d been nearly a child when Kylo Ren had met her.

Errol sneered in distaste.

Kylo Ren was a bantha’s ass if he wanted a teenager when he was a grown man. When all he had to do was say the word, and Hux would gladly be his. Much as Errol adored his Chancellor he thought Hux had wretched taste too.

Kylo Ren was a fool who didn’t even rule his own empire! Hux did! And his clones acted in his stead! Because of Errol no one was the wiser regarding the Supreme Leader’s relationship with his Chancellor. Errol had salvaged their reputation.

He grew more frustrated as the afternoon progressed, more sullen. He snapped at Lan and immediately regretted it when his brother slumped from their room. He tried to read up on Sith lore from a book Hux had given him, but he couldn’t concentrate.

He needed a scholar. He needed someone who wouldn’t mind delving into the denseness of the text. He needed another person with whom to enact his plan.

Hux wanted him to get rid of the scavenger girl.

Errol--well, he thought, we’d all be better off with Hux in charge.

The artefact could surely just as easily work on Kylo Ren.

Yes. He needed Kero. And Mika. Between the three of them, this could work.

And so, now he waited for his brothers to return from guard duty.

He fell asleep staring at the holocron, remembering how delicate Hux’s hands were, despite the gloves, as their fingers met on the red contours of the little Sith cube. How fragile his wrists looked, when he caught a glimpse of the pale, creamy skin.

  
  


*

  
  


Errol was still asleep when his brothers returned to their quarters, and so he did not hear them stumble through the door; nor was he aware when they greeted Lan, who had long forgotten Errol’s terseness. Instead, he stumbled out some time later, to find Asher and Valance now sitting with Lan, but no sign of anyone else. The three sat curled up on the long couch together, Valance flanked by the other two. Their master sat casually beside the Knight of Ren, and Lan’s head was on Valance’s shoulder, like a child.

Errol managed to hide the holocron in his hands behind his back.

“Where’ve you been?” Val asked him.

“I fell asleep,” Errol answered smoothly. He gave a yawn in earnest. “I passed out, just woke up.”

Their eyes were all on a holovid. To someone who didn’t know them well, it would be a strange thing indeed to stumble into a room and thereby discover the stern, reserved Captain of the Praetorian Guard under a blanket with the burly Knight. Errol smiled at them briefly before he walked over to the door that opened to the room of Kero and Mika.

“I wouldn’t,” Lan warned him.

Errol sighed. He needed to discuss matters with them, and he lacked the patience at the moment for waiting.

In their room, Kero and Mika were oblivious to everyone else in the suite of the Praetorian Guard. The full quarters occupied the entirety of the floor beneath which General Organa would be housed. Three rooms for the clones and a master suite for Asher herself. And a spare for Valance; he spent nearly all his time not occupied following the Knights of Ren with Asher and the clones. He was one of their little family himself, so the two lovers felt no timidity in locking themselves away together without a word.

Now, Kero lay on his back on their bed as Mika sat astride him, clutching at his firm chest and riding him hard. Kero’s hair fanned out against one of their pristine white pillows--Mika’s choice. He contentedly let Mika decide most of their life together; if his love was content, he was content. He stared up at Mika’s softer features, admired how much he looked like their long-departed grandmother, even if he was the requisite size of a Ren. Mika’s hair was loose, framing his body in the dimmed lighting. Their pants and groans could be heard through the door.

Little did they know their brother was outside, glowering at their door as they ignored his knocking.

“Sometimes, when I see how Kylo treats Hux, I need to fuck you so badly, just to show we’re nothing like him,” Mika panted. His annoyance at Ren from the morning simmered all day, until he’d climbed atop Kero.

“Kriff, dear heart,” Kero gasped, “I believe someone is at the door--”

Mika ground his hips down with authority. “Don’t care. He can wait.”

Errol knocked more loudly.

“You can wait!” Mika yelled. Then he leaned down to latch onto Kero’s left nipple and grinned wickedly at the ensuing moan that rumbled beneath him.

Kero closed his eyes and grinned as Mika sat back up and continued riding him. “Temper, love. Maybe we can expedite things a bit for the sake of whoever is at the door.”

“It’s Errol, can’t you tell?”

“Of course. Take pity on him, dearest.”

“Why? Because he never gets laid?”

Kero took Mika in his hands and began to stroke him. “You are rarely this vulgar,” he said with a smirk.

Mika whimpered.

Errol began to kick the door.

They heard Valance yell, “Hey!”

And then Mika came, and Kero soon followed.

“Up, love,” Kero ordered.

Mika pouted but reluctantly obeyed.

“He must really want something, Mika,” Kero insisted gently and handed Mika a robe, before cleaning himself and dressing quickly.

As he opened the door for Errol, Mika braided his hair. He was the only clone who needed no extensions when it came to dressing as the Supreme Leader in his ceremonial clothing. Mika’s long hair was nearly to the small of his back, as lush and soft as any of the hair of the Rens. Kero’s obsession with it made him even more vain about it than he already was.

“What is it, brother?” Mika sighed once Kero had closed the door behind Errol.

“Sit,” Kero said affably, a pleasant grin on his face. He raised a hand to the bed.

Errol gave him a look of disgust. “No, I’d prefer not, you fool.”

So Mika sat instead, gracefully gathering his white robe around him. His pretty face looked annoyed as he regarded Errol.

“Why did you interrupt our fucking?” he asked bluntly.

Errol rolled his eyes, but held the holocron out.

Mika’s brow furrowed; Kero’s eyes grew wide.

“Is that--?” Mika began.

“Stars, where did you get a Sith holocron?” Kero gasped. His eyes glittered with the sort of excitement typically found in old, dusty scholars.

“Where else?” Errol said. “From Hux.”

“May I?” Kero asked calmly, of course, but his face betrayed uncharacteristic excitement. Few things could make him look like that--Mika and artefacts and books were those things.

Errol handed his brother the holocron. Kero perched beside Mika and studied it with a sort of adoring fascination on his face.

Mika was literally the only person at whom Kero gazed like that. What a funny pair, Errol thought.

Mika, for his part, hung over Kero’s shoulder to stare at the holocron.

“Why did Hux give you that?” Mika asked. “Was it a reward?”

“What? No, of course not,” Errol said.

“What’s it do?” Mika took the holocron from Kero to hold. “It’s strange. It’s cold.”

“It is. Did Hux tell you what it’s for?” Kero queried.

Errol hesitated. He wanted their help; the three of them surely would be able to use it against Kylo Ren. Errol was confident in their success. But it was still a risk to confide in them, though not as risky as his other three brothers. The good children, he thought. Kero was neutral; he would be obedient to Asher in all things, unless Mika disagreed. Errol knew he’d need to appeal both to Mika and to Kero’s own scholastic inclinations.

“It can weaken a Force-user. It can incapacitate them. I’m not entirely sure how. Neither was Hux, but he thought it might work,” Errol explained.

Kero looked at him sharply.

“Is he betraying Kylo?” Mika gasped.

“No!” Errol exclaimed. “He’d never! No, he wanted me to find the scavenger girl and use it on her.”

Kero nodded. Mika leaned on his shoulder and said quietly, “So Kylo won’t think she’s an option and will only want Hux. Poor thing.”

“I can’t imagine pining that hard,” Kero agreed. Realizing to whom he spoke, he looked remorsefully at Errol. “No offense, brother.”

“None taken. Because what you imply is true and leads me to the next matter at hand,” Errol replied.

“Which is?” Mika asked. He made to hand Errol back the holocron, but Kero greedily intercepted it.

“I need help. Hux gave me a book with that thing,” Errol began, waving a hand at the holocron cradled in Kero’s palm. “It’s so dense, and my Sith isn’t good enough. I need Kero’s help getting through the karking book. And I need both of you to pull this off.”

“To defeat Rey? Why us?” Mika asked.

“Because Lan is too good. I’d never ask him to hurt anyone like this. Nor would you. And Chero and Kazan would never go against Asher.”

“What do you mean?” Kero asked now.

Errol gulped, girded up his loins, before continuing.

“I want to use it,” he said quietly, almost prayerfully, “on Kylo Ren.”

Kero’s jaw dropped. He spluttered a moment, attempting in vain his refutations of Errol’s implied proposal--but Mika recovered more quickly.

“Yes,” he said adamantly.

“Mika!” Kero hissed.

Errol leveled an intent stare at Mika. “You realize,” he murmured, “all I’m asking?”

“Yes,” MIka replied just as intently.

“Mika, we need to discuss--” Kero began.

“No, my love. We do not. You and I have already discussed Kylo many times. He’s dead weight. He’s foolish and chaotic. We’re better off without him.”

“But,” Kero insisted, “Hux will never forgive you, Errol. You’ll be executed or exiled, best case scenario. And the same for us--”

Errol shrugged. “You’ll have each other.”

“But you--”

“It’s better for Hux,” Errol snapped. “He’d be better served by being with Lan than with me, anyway,” he added, and the look on his face was so sorrowful that Mika stood and embraced him.

Errol allowed it--a rarity--because the truth of his confession wounded him deeply.

“If we’re all exiled, you can come with us, brother,” Mika said and kissed his cheek.

Kero simply gazed at him in wonder.

“You actually do love him? How curious.”

Errol glowered at him.

“All right, Kero. Enough,” Mika ordered. To Errol he asked, “Well, brother, what’s our plan? How do we give the galaxy to our dear Chancellor?”

Errol smiled. The sight gave Kero chills.

  
  


*

  
  


Two days. He had two days to prepare everything. Himself. Ren. The medical suite. The Order itself. His guts roiled with anxiety not even Ren’s meditation techniques could aid. And, he had to admit, sometimes Ren’s forced meditation had calmed his nerves. But not as much as fucking Ren did. He tried to slow his breath; he hadn’t had an actual panic attack in ages, but he felt on the verge of one.

Everything had to be perfect for Ren. For Ren’s mother. For Hux’s great enemy General Leia Organa. For the woman he nearly had to consider his mother-in-law. If only Ren wanted him.

And that sparked a whole host of other anxieties.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

He closed his eyes and counted his breaths.

His office door slid open.

Without opening his eyes, he knew whom it was based on their footsteps.

“Phasma,” he greeted her and opened his eyes.

“Chancellor,” she responded and gave a stiff little bow.

“You know better. Dispense with the mocking formalities and have a seat.”

She obeyed. With a slight mechanical whir, she approached and sat in the chair opposite the Chancellor.

Across his actual wood desk, a frivolity in which he’d allowed himself to indulge, he gazed upon her. She reached up to lift off her rebuilt (by Hux himself) chrome helm, as if to show him what a monstrosity he’d made of her. Or perhaps it was only his own guilt goading his sentiment for her.

Her face--once delicately featured and fair--was now half plasteel and metal, circuitry visible below her right eye, along the cheek and jawline under it. Her skin was waxen and uneven, transplanted and grafted from synthetic materials that didn’t quite meet the standards of the real thing. Half her flaxen hair was gone, burned away on the Supremacy and unable to regrow with all the scarring and inhuman materials that now made up her body.

She’d always been unconcerned by her beauty, but perhaps the fact that now she was more than half inorganic embittered her. She was colder now than before. As if, now that parts of her face, her body, her internal workings were robotic, she’d decided to embrace the role of droid general, rather than human. Her own humanity, always questionable at the best of times, now seemed nonexistent. 

He still cared though, even if she no longer did. And his affection made him wonder if he should have granted her the mercy of a painless death.

This was not painless, and only a half-life.

“So,” Phasma began. Her gaze was perhaps pointed, even with one eye mechanically hyper-focused on him.

It made him feel seen. He only wanted Ren to see him so well.

“So,” he repeated.

“Get on with it, Armitage,” she sighed, but even that sounded less human now. She folded her perfectly articulated new hands in her lap.

He sighed in response. “I suppose you’ve been made aware of the new--” he paused a moment to consider his wording, “--arrangements we’ve made for Ren’s mother.”

Her human eye--crystal clear blue--narrowed. “Organa,” she stated coldly.

“Yes. She--”

“I don’t care. I’m not guarding her, Armitage. Nor will I allow my men--”

“You speak too freely, General,” he snapped, instantly regretting it. How had they come to this?

Her mouth frowned.

“Indeed.”

He huffed out a breath and rested his forehead in his hand. “You don’t have to guard her. But we might need extra troopers guarding us. I’m having the Praetorian Guard assigned to her.”

Phasma cocked her head. It looked vaguely arthopodesque with all her newly formed inhumanity. Newly--no, it had already been over three years, he reminded himself.

“Is that wise?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’ll have to be. I wouldn’t trust the Knights of Ren with her.”

“You don’t trust them anyway.”

“True, I don’t. But speak to Asher. She wants to vet anyone you think would be suitable.”

“Does she not trust me? Because I’m--”

“No!” he said too quickly. “She’s just doing her job.”

Phasma nodded abruptly. “I respect her. She’s quite capable.”

“Yes, she is."

“Hmm,” she hummed in response. “You’ve grown fond of them, haven’t you? Your guards and their master.”

“It’s not as though I’ve never favored you,” he replied quietly, carefully observing her. Was she jealous of his relationship with Asher? She needn’t be. Asher was simply his guard, an advisor, and favored him only because of Ren.

The silence between them grew. Phasma seemed to care little, but Hux cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So,” he said. “Be sure to get together with Asher before you leave for Canto Bight.”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded, a dismissal, and she rose; but she stared down at him.

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“Ren weakens you, Armitage,” she said. “He always has.” She sighed disconsolately. “I fear he’ll be the death of you, old friend.”

So saying, she donned her helm and left him speechless in his office, his mien disturbed as he watched her leave.

She’s spoken it aloud now. It was real. The cosmos had heard the words uttered. He usually held no truck with superstition, but he felt as though something had heard her speak those words. Weakness registered in his mind, not old friend. He swallowed thickly against his fear.


	9. The Mother We Share

One day left.

Organa’s suite was filled with people and droids and all manner of things. Ren was overwhelmed as he stood in the doorway, attempting to appear as though he wasn’t using Hux as a shield between himself and--well, frankly, everything. He could intimidate and frighten and kill, but he couldn’t have a simple conversation with these people. If he found himself unable to talk to his own subordinates, how did he think he’d be able to talk to Leia?

Two troopers chosen by Phasma and confirmed by Asher stood behind him in the hallway. Hux turned to him with raised eyebrows. His look softened as he noticed Ren’s nervousness. He placed a hand to Ren’s elbow to beckon him forward into the room.

“Supreme Leader, you remember A’Yara,” Hux said pointedly.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Ren uttered dumbly. 

“Sire,” she bowed low to him. If she noticed anything different about Ren, she gave no sign. Hux thought not for the first time how unfortunate it might be for Ren that his clones played this game better than he did. Not that Ren was incompetent. He’d proven over the years he wasn’t. But he was also not cut out for politics, oddly enough. Considering his family. But the two of them together were doing very well. 

Ren gazed at the Twi’lek woman appraisingly. This was the first time he’d seen her, and she was every bit as fetching as Hux had told him.

Hux spoke again. “The Supreme Leader has come to see the progress you’ve made on his mother’s accommodations."

“Ah, yes! An honor, sire! Allow me to introduce you to her personal physician,” A’Yara said humbly, and pulled Taro over to her.

Taro gazed up at Ren fearfully before recovering themselves and bowing so low they nearly bent in half.

“Sire! You honor us greatly!” they yelped.

“So you are the doctor replacing our own?” Ren said. He felt little confidence in this person’s ability, not compared to their own doctor--former doctor. Hux had plans to send that man to a moon of Endor to work with non-humans. Hux was spiteful but it would do the old man good to be surrounded by xenos, Ren thought.

But this timid child--how could he put his faith in this creature cowering before him?

Taro quivered. 

Hux placed a hand on their shoulder, beckoning them to stand. “Please explain to the Supreme Leader your plans for his mother, Dr. Taro.”

Taro smiled, and they began blathering to Ren about their plans, their theories, treatments. If it had been less interesting and more technical an explanation, he’d have grown angry from boredom. Hux watched contentedly as Ren followed Taro from room to room

“He seems different,” Hux heard A’Yara mutter.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“Nothing, your grace! Only he seems more--uncertain, I suppose? Different from when I met him, I mean,” she explained.

“Because he fears for his mother.”

“Of course, your grace.”

Hux studied her as she moved to follow Ren and Taro.

  
  


*

  
  


Dr. Pasec stood by the transport that would take him to some misbegotten backwater moon filled with tiny, man-eating beasts. If he possessed any way to rid the galaxy of that bloody upstart Chancellor and his vile Supreme Leader, he’d have done it. But since he was naturally cautious and preferred to maintain his security, he had always been professional towards them; they’d treated him well. Pryde might think him a coward, but that old blurrg was no better!

General Phasma, the abomination, approached him.

“Your belongings are on board, and I have your guards waiting on your transport already. In fact, your entire delegation is aboard waiting for you,” she said. He didn’t appreciate her tone.

She too, he recalled, hailed from some desiccated backwater. But at least she’d once been human.

He said nothing to her. She scoffed and took her whirring mechanical menace of a body towards her own transport.

“Gwydion!” a voice called.

Speak of the Sith lord, Parsec thought. I’m exiting the stage, but not before one final disgrace.

Pryde approached and stared down at him. They’d known each other for years. What they lacked in camaraderie and respect they made up for in familiarity and common core Imperial beliefs. 

“Why are you on a transport to Endor?” Pryde asked.

Pasec noticed one of the Supreme Leader’s filthy minions lingering behind Pryde--for but a moment, before the Knight caught him looking and stomped away. 

“I’m being assigned to the moon’s diplomatic relations contingent,” Pasec answered.

“Whatever for? Aren’t you the doctor of the Supreme Leader and his consort?” Pryde pushed.

“Consort?” Pasec yelped.

“Yes. I’d have thought you’d have known,” Pryde replied, eyes narrowing.

“No! I mean, I’m not surprised. They are--lovers,” he said with distaste. 

“Indeed,” Pryde said. “But I ask again. Why are you going?”  
  


Pasec sneered. He stared angrily at Pryde. “I’ve been replaced by that Twi’lek wench and one of my own staff! Out with the old--in with the Organas,” he said nastily. 

“What?!” Pryde exclaimed. He gripped Pasec’s shoulders too tightly.

“Oh, you didn’t know? General Organa is dying, praise the old gods,” he replied and made a complicated gesture with his hand. Pryde felt disdain for such superstition, but he said nothing as Pasec continued. “Yes, she’s sick, so Ren and Hux are bringing her here. Hux wanted me,” he hissed, “me, the most experienced, important living Imperial physician, to work with that disgusting xeno girl to save that venomous Resistance leader.”

Pasec’s voice had risen in pitch as he’d ranted. Now Phasma returned and seemed to stare at him.

“It’s insulting,” Pasec hissed. He removed his glasses and pinched his watery blue eyes closed.

“Pasec, you’d best be on your way, before the Supreme Leader hears of this insubordination,” Phasma growled.

He stiffened, replaced his glasses.

“Watch out, Pryde,” he warned, “You never know when they’ll humiliate you to such an extent. Those young fools despise their betters!”

“They despise arrogant old fools,” Phasma snapped. She stepped forward, and Pasec ran up the gangplank with a squeak.

“Pay him no mind,” Phasma said in warning, and stomped back to her own transport bound for Canto Bight.

Pryde caught one last glimpse of the forlorn doctor before the gangplank rose and obscured him from sight.

“I’ve no need to worry, doctor.” Pryde murmured. “For I have a plan.”

He turned and made his way to Trudgeon, far beyond the transports, behind some unloaded cargo.

“I’m awaiting my next assignment.” he told the knight. “That gives us a little time. But why didn’t you tell me Organa was coming here?”

“What?” Trudgeon asked. Even with his helmet over his face, Pryde could easily tell the knight was shocked. So he didn’t know. Interesting. 

“Kylo Ren didn’t tell you? What else is he keeping from you?” Pryde goaded him.

Trudgeon growled low in his throat. “I’m sure Valance knows. And has told us nothing.”

“Of course. He might be a Knight of Ren, but he belongs to Kylo completely. And, by association, to Hux”

“Fuck.”

They stood in silence as they listened to the transports take off--one bound for the forest moon of Endor; the other to Canto Bight.

“Anything from Cardo or Vicrul?” Pryde asked once it was quiet again.

“Nothing from Cardo. No luck from Vicrul. Where else can we look? Where else could it be?”

Pryde swore in frustration. “If we could find it, we could right this disaster. And take out Kylo Ren and General Organa in one go. And reinstate our emperor.” He sighed. “Hux still has no clue, right?”

“None. His power is closed off. He won’t know a thing until it’s too late,” Trudgeon replied. His voice was gruff with excitement.

“Make sure of it. And find that holocron,” Pryde told him adamantly.

“We will, old man. We will.” 

Pryde nodded and strode away. After a few moments, Trudgeon followed.

  
  


*

  
  


The countdown had begun.

Actually, for Hux it had begun nearly four days ago. Now, he sat at his desk as the Rens filed out of his office with Asher and Valance. Ren threw himself on the ice blue couch, sight of so many of their early moments of congress.

Ren ran his hands fondly over the monstrosity. He’d made fun of Hux’s couch so often, but it was a good piece. Solid. He respected its solidity. He allowed himself a moment’s reverie before thinking about his mother.

"Do you think they’re ready?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, it’s fucked up that clones of her son are her guards, right?”

Hux looked at him, considering. “Only if she sees their faces,” he said finally. “They’ll have orders not to show their faces. It’s just another duty for them.”

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll be curious?”

Hux shrugged. “Asher will put the fear in them.”

“What do I say to her, Armitage?” Ren asked softly. Beseeching. “What do I do?”

Hux rose from his chair to go to Ren, to sit on his lap and cradle his great shaggy head in his arms.

“Maybe I should just not see her,” Ren declared.

“Preposterous, dearest. It will surely be awkward the first few days. Miserable, even. But you should see her. Talk to her.” Hux stroked his hair, considered before continuing. “I never got to say goodbye to my mother. I was so young when I was taken. I barely remember her at all.”

Ren pulled away from him.

“What I’m saying, baby,” Hux told him gently, placing a silencing finger to his plush lips, “is that you need to take this opportunity, because it might be the last you get with her.”

Ren nodded, buried his face in Hux’s shoulder. 

“And I’ll always be here for you afterward,” Hux murmured into his hair.

  
  


*

  
  


“Oh stars! Oh kriff!” Kazan was fairly dancing in the guard's suite after his shift was over. All the Rens had gathered together for dinner, a rare treat. But Phasma’s troopers were guarding the Supreme Leader and Chancellor this night, though Asher had checked on her master twice already.

“Calm down, Kaz,” Chero chuckled.

“I just--I can’t believe we’re going to meet our mother!” he exclaimed. “Or--wait! Is she our grandmother?”

Errol snorted. “So who’s our mother--Kylo or Hux?”

“Obviously,” said Mika in an arrogant tone, “Kylo is. We came from his body, after all.”

“I’m not calling him my mother,” Errol said.

“You want to call Hux your mother?” Kazan shot back.

Everyone stared at Errol as he grew almost aggressively silent and blushed. 

“All right, knock it off,” Kero told them. “Errol, go help Lan in the kitchen.”

Errol fled into the kitchen where Lan was cooking with Valance. He sat beside Asher on a stool by the counter. She was chopping some vegetables, so he decided to help her. 

“Were they teasing you again?” she asked quietly.

Errol shrugged.

She gave him a tight smile, and they continued in silence, until Valance came over and bemoaned the state of Asher’s chopping.

In the main room, Chero attempted to calm his brother down, but to no avail. They all felt it--this excitement, this strange yearning, from whence they knew not, not truly, but expected it came from Ren himself. How they felt must surely mirror Ren’s anticipation, though they would not be able to fully grasp his trepidation at seeing his mother after so long. At talking to her, hearing her voice. Seeing how old she’d grown.

No, in their innocence, they did not understand the distress that Ren felt, with what anxiety he would feel upon greeting the morrow when he finally, finally greeted Leia. 

For now, the clones, each of the brothers who were called Ren, knew only their own curiosity, their own joy at meeting their original’s mother. Though they didn’t know what a mother was like for Kylo Ren, they understood the import behind the concept. Because of Asher and Valance; the latter especially treated them as if he were a mother porg hen. And when they all came together for dinner, they fed off each other’s excitement, so much so that even Kero could not sit still for the anticipation.

  
  


*

  
  


It was close on to Coruscant midnight when Hux finally wound down enough, after working late, to go to bed. He turned the lights to 25%, just enough to see, but started when he turned and saw a figure at the viewport.

“Ren?” he called.

The figure did not turn towards him but leaned against the transparisteel.

“Baby,” Hux said “it’s time for bed.

He stripped and hung up his clothing, put his boots on the shelf in the closet under his ridiculous outfits, and went to Ren.

They stood there, naked, together, looking out over the miles and miles of brightly lit city. It almost hurt Hux to look at it, but, as he looked at Ren, he thought to himself how beautiful the Supreme Leader looked shadowed in the Coruscant night.

The fear was, of course, writ plainly on Ren’s face as he failed to meet Hux’s eyes. Hux took Ren’s hand, raised it to his lips.

“I’m here, Ren. I’m right here. This all can only be good.”

“What if it isn’t? What if I say awful things to her? What if I don’t, but she hates me?”

Hux grasped Ren’s arms, turned Ren to face him. When Ren still refused to meet his eyes, Hux cupped Ren’s face in his hands and pulled Ren’s head to his own. Forehead to forehead, they looked at each other now. 

“If she hated you, she wouldn’t be coming,” Hux told him.

“What if it’s a ploy? To kill me? Or,” Ren gulped thickly, “or you? What if that’s all it is? I can’t do this without you!” Ren cried.

Hux lost his breath for a moment as he studied Ren. His doe eyes were weepy and red, even in the dimness of their room; Hux smoothed his thumb gently under Ren’s left eye, wiping away a tear. He put his thumb in his mouth to lick off the tear, and Ren whimpered. Hux leaned closer and kissed him, wrapped his arms around Ren’s neck.

That was, he believed, as close as he’d ever get to a love confession from Ren.

If that’s all he’d get, he’d take it. Ren needed him, which was far superior than being nothing to Ren.

“It will be fine. Do you need a script, love?” Hux chuckled.

“Yes,” Ren whined into his neck.

“No! We can’t greet your mother with a script, Ren. Absolutely not!” Hux exclaimed with a laugh.

‘Can too. Make you write one for me.”

“How about if we go to bed, and then we can go over some things to say in the morning?”

Ren shrugged.

“Over breakfast?” Hux said. “With griddle cakes and jogan fruit?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Good. Now come.”

Hux pulled him from the viewport and to their bed, where he bundled Ren in all their blankets and pillows, created him a little nest. Then he turned the heat off so Ren would be forced to cuddle with him. A handy trick he’d learned ages ago, upon the discovery that skin-on-skin contact ameliorated any fear or stress Ren felt. Sometimes anger. He curled up in the nest beside Ren and gathered him into his arms.

“It’s fine to be afraid. But this is a good thing,” Hux murmured.

“I’m not afraid,” Ren insisted.

“You are, and you’re going to be quiet and let me hold you.”

He felt a small smile against his chest. After a few more minutes, he heard Ren begin to hum in his sleep. His body twitched against Hux’s and only then did Hux allow himself to follow Ren into slumber, clinging tightly to him.

And when they awoke, it was the day of Leia’s arrival.


	10. Constellation of the Heart

The next morning arrived to a flurry of activity. The sun remained at a distance, hidden behind doleful clouds, as if nervous about the day’s events. Hux awakened at his usual time, wishing he too could hide away. He sat up in bed and gazed at Ren, still aslumber. Very gently he brushed the hair from Ren’s face and observed the little wrinkling of the long nose. Hux smiled down at him a moment before recalling Phasma’s words to him. He shook off their memory and rose from the bed, eager to be ready before Ren woke, so that Ren could have as much time to prepare as he needed.

Before he went to the refresher, he paused to consider something. And before he could dissuade himself, he went out to their living area, to his desk, and retrieved some actual, real paper. Ren kept such archaic things on hand because he was Ren, and because he’d recently taken up calligraphy again. He’d tried to teach Hux, but Hux just didn’t quite have the knack for such obsolete beauty.

With one of Ren’s few actual pens, Hux, after much deliberation, sat down to quickly write Ren a note. To encourage him, Hux told himself. Nothing more.

Not--certainly not a love note!

He reread his words, checked the spelling and syntax and legibility.

“It is a karking love note,” he sighed, but he left it.

When he returned to their room, he placed the note by Ren’s side of the be and hied himself into the refresher. He sincerely hoped Ren read it once Hux was already gone for the day.

Quickly he showered and took care of his teeth, left the fresher. Checking briefly on Ren, he found him still asleep, though in a different position--sprawled, as usual, on his back, diagonally, completely overtaking Hux’s side of the bed. The note, he saw with relief, was still where he’d left it.

He entered the closet.

How in all Sith hells should he dress for Leia? He groaned.

He should be official, the thought. Simple but authoritative. He must wear something Ren hadn’t commissioned. He hardly needed her to think worse of them. Which she would certainly do if he greeted her clad in something that cost five times the Resistance budget.

It was easier to pick something out for Ren. So he did that.

After half an hour of deliberation, Hux, finally dressed, came out of the closet.

To find Ren sitting up in bed, reading the note.

Hux flushed a bit.

“Ren,” he announced, “I’ve picked you out something to wear.”

Ren slowly turned to look at him. His expression was unfathomable, for once. Rarely did Hux find himself unable to discern his mood, but now he stood silently observing Ren, lush red-gold eyebrows raised in concern.

“Why did you write this?” Ren asked quietly.

It unnerved Hux.

“Simply to,” he began slowly, “encourage you today. I know it’s difficult to see her again.” 

Something in Ren’s eyes shifted. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. Perhaps Hux pushed his luck here.

“It’s just--I didn’t know how else to help you today,” Hux blurted. He never blurted! What was it that Ren always did to him?

“Thank you,” Ren murmured.

He didn’t sound angry, but Hux still possessed no certainty regarding his mood.

“Yes, well,” Hux said finally. “I’ve something for you to wear, so don’t worry about that. Just take care and meet me in her suite when you’re ready.” Even to his own ears, he sounded officious.

Ren’s brow furrowed, but he nodded.

Hux left as quickly as he could without embarrassing himself further.

  
  


*

  
  


It seemed like the Chancellor’s entire staff ran around the suite this morning. Taro had fretfully made multiple requests to people, but they were so timid that A’Yara had to bark out their orders again and again. Taro looked relieved when she took command.

“You’re in charge now,” A’Yara told them. “You can order them.”

Taro shrugged, made to respond, when their eyes grew wide. They stared at something over A’Yara’s shoulder. Concerned, she turned and beheld some of the Praetorian Guard.

She knew, according to her research, that there were six of them, plus their master and a Knight of Ren usually found in her company. She was surprised to see a woman in power in the Order, even more surprised to see non-binary people. The Empire had been very sexist; there was no other way to put it. When she'd learned women held authority in the First Order, she’d assumed it was desperation. Perhaps at first it had been, but this younger generation took it for granted that other people besides human men were capable. Still and all, most officers were men, probably because old Imperials remained in their ranks.

But what the Praetorian Guard were she was uncertain. A woman led them, and she wasn’t human. Nor was her companion, according to those who knew them. But almost no one knew what the guards themselves looked like. Beyond huge. Tall and broad they were, all of a size together. The two with whom she’d held any brief conversations sounded male.

Now five of them entered with their master and the Chancellor.

“They’re--rather large,” Taro gulped.

A’Yara nodded.

One of them turned their way and waved.

“Hi!” he exclaimed, causing Taro to squeak in shock.

“Hello, Kazan,” A’Yara replied with a detached friendliness.

“You know him?” Taro whispered.

“We’ve spoken once. He was very--pleasant, I suppose?”

Taro regarded the guard for a moment.

“Kazan,” his master called. Her face was stern and well-proportioned, though still youthful. She couldn’t have been much older than either A’Yara or Taro.

Kazan bowed his head sheepishly.

“It’s fine, Asher.”

And now came the Chancellor himself. He was dressed more plainly than the other times she’d seen him, but he still cut a striking figure.

“Your grace!” Taro exclaimed and gave a little bow.

“Are things ready for the Supreme Leader’s mother?” he asked.

His tone was pleasant but authoritative. Taro took a deep breath, girded up their loins before responding.

“Yes, your grace. Just a few finishing touches remain, but we’ll need her here for those.”

“Well done,” he said, and Taro beamed.

“Your grace,” Asher interjected, “the lady’s ship is docking momentarily.”

“Ah, good. Carry on, doctor. Your new patient will be here soon.”

Hux swept from the room, his guard closely behind.

“They’re very intimidating, aren’t they?” Taro murmured to A’Yara, who nodded in response. “Except,” Taro added,” that one that seems to fancy you.” They grinned.

“Hush, you,” A’Yara replied. “I doubt the Chancellor would like us fraternizing with his uniformly mammoth guards.”

“A pity,” Taro sighed, causing A’Yara to give a startled laugh.

  
  


*

  
  


Hux and his guards stood in the hanger. Around him, nearly all work had stopped the moment Leia’s ship approached. The curiosity, the tension, was palpable. He almost tasted it. And though he presented his people with a calmly controlled demeanor, he was in reality mortified to be finding himself in this situation.

The ship landed almost gracefully in the hangar. He could practically feel the collective intake of breath. With dismay, he noticed Pryde lingering, which surely boded ill. A couple of Ren’s knights also stood by to observe the ship docking.

If he could have had all the Rens here, he’d have done it; but Ren himself needed to be guarded, needed someone with him, today of all days. Valance and Lan had remained with him. He trusted them and knew they’d be gentle with Ren, but even so he fretted.

A murmur went up around him as the ramp lowered.

His stomach complained of its anxiety, but he resolutely ignored it. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, his posture rigid as ever, presenting himself in the familiar manner the Resistance expected. Save for his hair, which he left loose, the way Ren preferred.

And suddenly, there she was. His great enemy. His nemesis. The mother of the man he loved. And instead of executing her, he welcomed her; if not with open arms, then at least with the intention to help her. To heal her.

Bewildered, Leia remained still at the top of the ramp, looking down at the gathered ranks of the First Order.

“Where is he?” she asked.

Luke, beside her, shrugged. “Maybe he’s nervous.”

She sighed. Suddenly, she felt a hand at her elbow.

“Are you sure? I mean, how can we trust them? Maybe I should stay--”

“No, Poe. Luke assured me it’s fine.”

“How can he be sure?” Poe asked incredulously.

“Tell him I’m right here,” Luke said with an eyeroll.

“He’s right here, Poe.” Leia huffed out a laugh. “He’ll be with me. I’ll be fine. I’m willing to trust--whatever this is.”

“Oh, fuck,” Poe muttered.

Leia turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

Pow was scowling down the ramp at a tall, slim redhead who scowled right back.

“That’s it. I’m taking you back,” Poe announced. He tried very hard to keep his hand off the blaster at his hip.

“No, you aren’t,” she sighed. She studied the Chancellor. But why was he here instead of her own son? She tried not to be hurt, to believe her brother was right. But, really--to be greeted by this man and not her own son?

Actually, this whole situation baffled her. But if it could lead to something good for the galaxy, it would be worth it. Being in this nest of rathtars.

She approached Hux now. His expression was aloof. His posture was perfect. He was dressed simply, elegantly, in black boots, jodhpurs, and jacket. The only embellishments were the high, open collar framing his clenched jaw and the golden fringe of his epaulets that brought out the gold in his hair.

She could feel Poe at her back, protective especially in the presence of Hux himself. His hand rested on her shoulder as he came to stand beside her.

Hux had the hint of a sneer. Far more subtle than Poe’s failed attempt at reining in his own hostility.

“Is this your goon squad?” he asked snidely.

“Poe,” Leia warned.

Hux curled his lip. “Charming as always, Dameron. I thought you’d be taller,” he said, acerbic.

Poe’s cheeks reddened. “That the best you can do?” he snapped back.

“Kriff, no. But with you I needn’t apply myself. My comment obviously hit its mark.”

Poe opened his mouth to argue, but Leia put up her hands. She noticed a female guard pinching the bridge of her nose, sighing, behind Hux.

“Now, now, boys. Let’s be civil,” Leia admonished them. “Thank you for meeting us, your grace,” she added diplomatically, and Poe gave a little snarl at the fact that she’d used Hux’s honorific.

“A pleasure, General Organa,” he replied smoothly. He even gave a polite little bow. “Welcome to Coruscant. Once again. These will be your guards. Our new Praetorian Guard. They are my exclusive escort and will keep you safe. Asher here,” he said, turning to the woman behind himself, “is their master.”

“Asher?” Leia repeated. “My goodness, you’ve grown!”

Hux looked startled. Asher nodded shyly.

“I met her once at my brother’s school,” Leia explained. "You were just a child then. I didn't realize you’d be here.”

“Interesting,” Hux murmured. Then he once again became all business. “If you would follow me, General, I shall lead you to your suite.” So saying, he turned on his heel and briskly strode away. Two large guards in red armor flanked him. The other three and Asher surrounded Leia and Poe, led them from the hangar.

“BB, guard the ship,” Poe called back and received doleful binary in response. He stayed as close as he could to Leia, one hand resting on his blaster. “You guys are real hospitable,” he said.

“We are protecting the Supreme Leader’s mother,” Asher replied archly. “The Chancellor wishes to keep her as safe as possible for him.”

“That order probably sticks in old Hugsy’s craw,” Poe said merrily.

One of the guards huffed. “It was no order,” The guard--male Leia noted--responded, “It was Chancellor Hux’s”--and here he emphasized Hux’s name--“idea.”

“So he’s a suck-up. Got it.”

“No! You clearly--”

“Errol!” Asher interjected firmly.

Errol faced forward and ignored Poe’s chuckle. Leia studied the back of the red helm. The voice sounded so familiar. Tentatively, she reached out with the Force. He felt almost familiar too, but she wasn’t certain how. Suddenly, Errol stiffened, so she pulled away.

“Forgive me,’ she murmured.

The red helm nodded and the rest of the way to her suite the procession was silent.

  
  


*

  
  


Hux opened the doors to her rooms.

Poe gave a whistle as he ushered Leia inside.

“We’ve spared no expense for your treatment and your comfort, as you can see,” Hux told her.

The suite was huge. Far bigger than anywhere she’d lived in years, probably since Ben was small. The furniture was plush and well-crafted, all in warm colors. There was a holoscreen taking up most of the north wall of the living room, and a viewport took up the whole of the east wall. There were also real books, not just datapads. Hux brought the group to the bedroom next. The room was even more impressive than the first.

Leia’s hand went to her mouth as she gazed at it. How Ben had found such things she didn’t know.

“You like it?” Hux asked.. “We couldn’t hire a craftsman on such short notice, but we did manage to track down some pieces on the holonet. Not genuine articles, of course, but the man who was selling them had Alderaanian grandparents.”

She touched the carved wooden headboard. It wasn’t quite right, but whoever had done the carving for the furniture had still possessed a decent knowledge of Alderaanian design and mythology.

The bureau, vanity, side tables, even a floor lamp--all matched perfectly. And there were her favorite flowers on a small table by the viewport, a comfortable-looking chair beside it.

She was touched, she had to admit. And yet suspicion lodged itself in her heart; she couldn't help but think Hux had some ulterior motives in everything he was doing here. And what those motives were, she could easily guess; but even so, this was farther in kindness than she would have expected from him. This might be more difficult than she imagined.

“Wow, that’s really--huh.”

For once, Poe was at a loss. She turned to him. He looked confused now, trying to figure out Hux and Ren, trying to reconcile this with everything else.

Two people entered the room.

‘Ah!” Hux exclaimed. “General, allow me to introduce your two caretakers.”

Taro was fairly quivering with nerves and anticipation. They weren’t much taller than Leia herself. A’Yara, as usual, was calm and dignified. She caught Leia’s eye and gave a slow blink.

Leia walked over and held out a hand to both of them. A’Yara shook it graciously. Taro blathered nervously, but they put both Poe and Leia at ease. They finished the main part of the tour, detailing their plans for Leia, showing the general her very own medical suite.

Hux had seen it all multiple times and was still impressed.

After a while, the tour was over, and Leia looked exhausted, he noted. He gently touched her shoulder. She started.

“I think it best if we explain some things whilst Taro examines you,” he said. “Asher will take Dameron back to his ship to fetch your things.”

“I’m not leaving her with you,” Poe began.

“Well, you can’t stay,” Hux snapped.

“It’s fine, Poe. You really can’t stay,” Leia said gently.

Grumbling, Poe allowed Asher to lead him from the room.

Now that she was alone, though, with Hux, his people--most of them--she felt afraid.

Luke was beside her instantly.

“It’s fine. I promise,” he told her.

A’Yara caught her eye again, smiled.

Hux held out a hand to her.

“Let’s get you settled up here,” he said. “There are things I need to tell you.”

He helped her onto the examination table. Taro at once took out an apparatus to take her vitals. No one else was here but Leia, Hux, the two doctors, Luke--and the five guards who had accompanied them.

“So. You have free reign of any unrestricted areas. You’ll be treated like a civilian, not an enemy. So you can come and go as you like. Unless Taro or A’Yara tell you otherwise. And you must be accompanied at all times by two Praetorian Guards.”

“And I’m not a prisoner?” she asked pointedly.

“No. You are our guest. But there are still many Imperials who would love nothing more than to see you dead right here and now.”

“But you don’t?”

Hux paused. He looked almost uncertain.

“No, I do not,” he said eventually, as though he himself couldn’t believe it. He cleared his throat and paced around. “They are for your protection. You will only be guarded by these Praetorian Guards and Asher. No troopers. No Knights of Ren. Except Valance. You know Asher, do you know him?”

Leia nodded as Taro had her stick out her tongue.

“Good. If a guard comes who is not Praetorian or Asher or Valance, do not trust them. Do not believe them. Especially if they are Knights of Ren.”

“You don’t trust Ben’s own knights?” she asked incredulously.

“No. And you will please give him the respect he deserves and call him by his chosen name. Kylo Ren.”

He sounded protective.

Starkiller was even more unnerving to her now.

He continued, “But no, I don’t trust them at all.”

He locked the door suddenly. Taro, A’Yara, and Leia stared at him.

“Your grace?” A’Yara said.

Hux gave a gesture. As one, the Rens took off their helms and stood before their quasi-mother. Mika, Kero, Errol, Chero, Kazan. Since Lan was with Ren, she’d have to meet him later. All save Kazan were somber. His eyes, twinkling, shot back and forth between Leia and A’Yara.

“No one outside this room,” Hux said, “save Ren, Asher, Valance, and the sixth Ren know who the Praetorian Guard are.”

The other three stared in shock.

Leia studied each one, just like her son but rendered perfect. Still, there was no mistake: These boys were clones of her son.

They each gave their name and then covered their faces once again.

“Forgive me for the shock. But it is extremely important that you know whom to trust,” Hux told the three; Taro trembled from shock so badly they couldn’t take Leia’s blood.

A’Yara stared at the one named Kazan. She felt him stare back.

“You will never have less than two guards,” Hux continued. He waved the guards off. They exited and closed the door behind themselves.

“You cloned him?” Leia breathed.

Hux nodded. “Taking a page from your mother’s book from her time as queen.”

Surprise after surprise with this one, she thought.

“And where is my son?” she asked. She had the irrational fear that Ben--Kylo--would also be a clone, that her real son was dead and substituted.

But no, Luke would have known. 

And the door opened. 

There he was.

Ben.

Kylo.

Her troublesome baby.

She felt tears in her own eyes, saw them in his. He trembled, hesitated in the doorway, uncertain.

Hux moved.

Leia saw his face soften as he went to Ren and took his hand to lead him into the room.

“Mother,” he said with a failed attempt at dignity.

“B-Kylo,” She said.

Nonplussed, he gasped. He almost looked confused.

Hux gestured, and Taro and A’Yara left the room. Whatever they needed could wait. This, his Ren, could not.

Gently, Hux murmured in Ren’s ear, “Shall I leave you?”

“Yes. No. I-I don’t know,” Ren whispered back.

Both were unaware how intently Leia observed them.

“I’ll be right outside the door then, all right? I can work here just as easily as in my office. I’ll be here if you need me. Okay?”

What Leia could see of the Starkiller’s face was concerned, affectionate; his focus was on Kylo only.

Hux clasped Ren’s shoulder and left.

“Mother--” Ren sobbed.

She held out her arms, crying herself. Crying for so many reasons, yes, but he was, in the end, still her son, and perhaps he really could be saved.

  
  


*

  
  


Poe was agitated when he returned. The guard and their infernal chancellor wouldn’t let him in to see Leia. Because Kylo Ren was with her. Poe didn’t pretend he didn’t resent Kylo. Kylo whose own mother still lived, and he’d done nothing but break her heart for years. Poe and Leia considered each other family. But she still came for Ben. He sat on the plush merlot sofa in front of the holoscreen, staring at the figures moving on its surface absently. Hux ignored him, working on whatever fascist plans he had for the galaxy. The two medical people were in another room preparing Force knew what monstrous tortures. Though, he conceded, they did look nice enough. And Leia assured him Luke was fully aware of what their plans were. Still.

And he hated leaving his ship for this long. And BB. Who knows what they were doing to him right now! Valance, the huge baldie knight, had arrived as he and Asher were leaving the hangar to guard Poe’s ship. How could Poe trust a Knight of Ren to guard a Resistance vessel?

He ran his hand through his thick hair.

He noticed Hux watching him.

“Do you need anything, Dameron? Sustenance? A brain?”

“Haha. I love how you pepper your hospitality with nastiness, Hugsy.”

Hux frowned. “Starve then. Dehydrate yourself. See if I care.”

“I know you don’t.”

“You’re right, actually. But Leia does, and Ren cares what she thinks. So have A’Yara or Taro show you the kitchen.”

As Poe stood, the door opened.

Kylo Ren came out, red-eyed, his face inscrutable. He placed a hand on the back of Hux’s neck, and Hux gazed up at him. For a moment, they forgot that Poe was still around. And he watched them with wide eyes. And then Kylo noticed him and scowled.

“You are dismissed,” Ren said haughtily.

“Not before I see Leia.”

Ren opened his mouth to argue, but Hux stood and touched his hand. The two men exchanged a look pregnant with meaning, and then Ren relented. He stalked off. Hux nodded his head in the direction of the door.

“Go on then. Say your farewells-for-now.”

He followed Ren to the door.

“When you’re ready to leave, Asher will lead you back to your ship.”

They left.

Poe entered Leia’s examination room. She was reclining on the table, hands covering her face. He saw her shoulders shake as she sobbed silently.

“Leia?” he asked gently.

She started and sat up. When she took her hands from her face, it was tear-streaked. It hurt his heart to see her like this. He walked over to the table and took her in his arms, stroked her hair.

“Are you okay? Do I need to fight him for you?” Poe asked, and knew the question had a double meaning.

She shook her head. “No, Poe. I’m just tired and overwhelmed. And shocked. It’s been a day.”

He nodded. She wrapped her arms around his middle.

“I wish you could stay. Or Rey, or…” She sighed. “I’ll miss you all.”

Then they looked at each other. Both tearing up.

“Should you need us,” Poe said, “just call us. Send Luke. Anything. We’ll be here in a heartbeat. We love you, y’know?"

She smiled. “I know. I love you too.”

They held hands a moment. Then Leia wiped her eyes.

“Go on. Get out of here,” she told him.

They hugged once more. And then Poe left the room. Leia sighed sorrowfully.

The two guards stared at Poe as he walked out the door. One of them nodded to him. He nodded back. Asher was waiting for him. She looked almost sympathetic, he thought. She wasn’t so bad. Maybe if she wasn’t so bad, Leia would be okay. He still worried, but there was nothing he could do now. He ran a hand over his face.

“Well, let’s get me back to my ship,” he said hoarsely.

Asher gave him a nod and led the way.

  
  


*

  
  


Later, after Poe left; after Taro had taken so many tests, and A’yara had explained so many of their plans for her; after reuniting with her child, Leia reclined in exhaustion atop her bed. A droid had brought her meal, and she nibbled at it limply.

Suddenly, Luke appeared.

“Well, how did it go?” he asked.

“Shockingly well,” she replied.

“See, I told you. He really wanted to see you. They really want to help.”

“I was shocked by how much,” she agreed. “Did you know Hux’s guards are Asher and Valance and clones of Ben? she asked. And was pleased at the dumbfounded look he gave her.

“I knew Valance, yes. But Asher? And...clones of Ben?” he yelped.

She nodded. “And,” she continued, “you might have told me the Starkiller is in love with my son.”

Luke sighed in dismay. “I thought I’d let you figure that out for yourself.”

“Ass,” she said fondly. She was glad her brother was here with her in this strange place.


	11. No One Is Easy To Love

Hux entered their quarters early that evening; he wanted to see how Ren was, wished to talk to him. He wanted to know if he’d been able to make Ren happy.

Happy enough to forgive him when the scavenger died. It could be so easy now, he thought.

He changed into one of Ren’s shirts, the cuffs of which fell well past his hands, and some soft pants. Ren generally made him change as soon as he came home. Hux accustomed himself to Ren’s more casual domestic ways. He even appreciated it now. Though, he forced himself to admit, he also grew spoiled from Ren’s enforced domesticity.

Hux geared himself to eat as he returned to the main room.

“Ren?” he called.

No answer.

He tried not to be dismayed; he realized Ren probably wished to spend as much time with his mother as he could. Hux didn’t begrudge him that, which surprised him. He really was soft when it came to Ren.

He didn’t resent it. But he missed Ren. Without Ren, he hardly knew what to do with himself, what to eat. He could find himself some work, but he didn't want to. His stomach grumbled hungrily; with a distressed mien, he shuffled almost disconsolately towards the kitchen. Perhaps he could attempt to surprise Ren with dinner?

Half an hour later found him still standing in the kitchen, staring into a cupboard full of things with which he’d no clue what to do. He’d looked in the conservator, but that held even more baffling things. And Ren still hadn’t returned.

Where was he?

Hux didn’t mean to worry. He knew where Ren probably was.

Was he lonely?

Well, yes--he had to admit that he was quite lonely without Ren at dinner.

“I’ve grown far too spoiled,” he told himself.

He shut the cupboard with a sigh and leaned his head against it.

A chime sounded from the main room. Hux pushed back from the cupboard and straightened himself out, schooled his face to its usual aloof demeanor. But he couldn’t keep the surprise from his face when he opened the door to one of his guards. 

Two flanked this third one, but they were on duty. No, this third guard stood before him, helm off to reveal his face, so like Ren’s, but perfected by Kamino’s technology. His freckles were placed in an aesthetically pleasing manner across the bridge of his nose, and he had a mole beside one eye. His dark hair swept back neatly from his face in tidy, lustrous waves, and his eyes--so like Ren’s in the physical sense--regarded Hux cheerfully. Hux was fairly certain Ren, like himself, had never been cheerful in his life.

“Lan? What is it?” he asked, and he couldn’t help but panic. “Is everything all right? Is Ren--”

Hux paused as some light in Lan’s eyes dimmed. Then the guard forced himself to smile.

“Your grace,” he said lightly, with a gallant little bow--so strange, since Ren was never gallant. “The Supreme Leader is dining with his mother this evening. Our master said you might need assistance.”

“Assistance?” Hux repeated.

“The chancellor should not have to prepare his own meal, your grace. She has ordered me to cook for you,” Lan said almost proudly.

“You cook?”

“I do. Most of our meals in the Praetorian Guard I prepare.” He paused, shyly now, his head lowered as he peered up at Hux through his lashes (longer than Ren’s, Hux noted). “Master thought my food would please you, your grace.”

Hux stared blankly at Lan for a moment before moving aside to let him enter.

The door closed.

Chero and Mika turned towards each other. Chero huffed seriously.

“Well, well,” Mika murmured.

“I have never seen Lan make that face,” Chero muttered back.

“Well, he’s never gotten to cook for Hux before. And he is well aware of his talents.” 

Chero chortled. “Kylo had better watch out.”

“Indeed, brother.”

“So had Errol.”

Mika shrugged. “No, Errol would be happy if Lan got Hux.”

Chero cocked his head. “Interesting. I didn’t think he was capable of being so selfless.”

“Shockingly,” Mika answered, “he seems to be when it comes to those two. Too bad our original doesn’t learn some lessons from Lan and Errol.”

The two became silent once more, as was typical for them. They were very different from each other and at times had difficulty finding common ground. Unlike their original, though, neither Chero nor Mika let this bother himself. Unlike Kylo Ren, the clones knew where they stood with each other and their master. 

Kylo Ren never comprehended where he stood with anyone. Not even his lover.

  
  


*

  
  


At the counter, Lan adeptly chopped some vegetables to saute them each in their turn. He gathered Ren’s spices and added them. Hux he made his sous chef. Lan watched him carefully as he added whatever Lan advised and stirred. The chancellor looked almost as if he enjoyed it all.

Hux seemed to notice nothing; Lan knew he had no talent for the Force. He also knew that was probably the reason Ren didn’t make Hux his consort. Ren baffled Lan. And disturbed him. He could feel the oppressive nature of Kylo Ren in every inch of this suite. The Force hung heavy with his dark signature, with his anger and anxiety and so many other things. Lan was almost surprised Hux couldn’t feel it.

Or maybe it didn’t matter to Hux, because it was all Ren. For Lan, it was almost suffocating. His own anxiety began to poke at him. To distract himself, he decided to talk. He wanted to know more about Hux.

“Have you,” Lan asked quietly, “never cooked with the Supreme Leader before?”

Hux considered a moment. “No,” he said at last. “I’ve no idea how to cook.”

“Well, you're doing it right now,” Lan pointed out.

“Yes, but it’s a first. Before I never had time or inclination. I subsisted on ration bars or galley food or whatever I might order to be brought to me.”

“So it’s true the Supreme Leader has been forcing proper meals into you.”

Hux eyed him, and Lan ducked his head, wondering fretfully if he’d been too familiar. But then Hux sighed and said, “Sadly, yes. It’s true.”

And his casual admission delighted Lan. Hux felt comfortable enough to chat so easily like this! His anxious feeling lessened just a little, though he felt a modicum of guilt, knowing how jealous Errol might be. He swore to himself to show Errol everything their precious chancellor did, every smile and sneeze from Ithorian pepper.

When the cooking was done, Lan fixed a plate for Hux and brought it to the dining table, a small, round affair of white plasteel just big enough for Ren to join his chancellor for a meal. Then Lan made to leave. He felt perhaps staying too much longer might let the darkness that ate at Kylo Ren begin to gnaw also at him. It began to weigh upon him heavily as he headed towards the door.

Hux sat and watched him a moment.

“You aren’t eating?” he asked.

“No, your grace. My intent was to make sure that you ate.”

Hux looked at his plate a moment and then back to Lan.

“I am unaccustomed to eating alone now. I spend all day with you lot, I might as well share a meal with you.”

“Your grace, I--are you sure?”

Hux shrugged. “Why not? I do better if I have company when I eat. I feel more like I’m accomplishing something. Or at least not wasting time.”

“Taking care of yourself is not wasting time,” Lan admonished him. Again, he thought he’d overstepped, but Hux only chuckled.

“You sound like Ren,” he said.

Lan smiled tightly. 

The air felt heavier around him.

“Come. Join me. It’ll be better for me. You can make sure I eat and report back to Asher,” Hux told him.

And Lan obeyed, against his better judgment. Though everything in him told him to leave, because all of this, including Hux, belonged to Kylo Ren, who was possessive and ill-tempered and volatile.

But he returned to the kitchen and fixed a plate for himself as Hux waited silently. When Lan returned and joined him, only then did he begin to eat.

“Much better,” Hux said with a hint of a smile. Lan simply stared at him. Hux gazed back, brow furrowed. “What is it?”

“Nothing, your grace. I suppose I’m only nervous. I’ve never before cooked for heads of state,” Lan replied. Which was true, but it was also true that he found himself enraptured by the chancellor. From the moment the Kaminoans presented the completed clones to Supreme Leader Ren and Chancellor Hux, Lan found himself smitten. He assumed this was so because he was made of the same stuff as Ren; which meant that, surely, surely Ren had feelings for his chancellor. Yet, over the course of the two years Lan had been their guard, he had realized that Kylo Ren didn’t comprehend his own feelings for Hux. Unlike Ren, Lan didn’t possess a natural selfishness. He was always aware of others and their feelings. Of the presence a person left behind when they exited a room. He possessed the empathy Ren somehow lacked. How, Lan couldn’t know. But he always noticed Hux’s sorrow, his longing for Ren. Thus, even in his goodness, Lan wished to steal Hux away from Ren.

And in these rooms, belonging to Ren and Hux, opened only to Ren and Hux, he could feel everything far too much. Hux’s desire and sorrow, Ren’s anger and selfishness, the darkness that long bound them together. It smothered him and frightened him. But for Hux he would never have stepped foot into Ren’s domain.

He knew what Hux had done. But he also knew what made him. He wished to comfort Hux, to heal his heart.

If all he could do was cook for him, sit with him to keep the loneliness at baby, well--that was what he’d do.

Now Hux took a bit of the simple fair Lan had made him. It consisted only of vegetables with a rice-like grain, but Hux had never had anything like it. The accompanying sauce was rich, with the merest hint of sweetness to balance out the savory tang. His eyes grew wide.

“This is really quite delicious,” Hux said with a surprised smile.

Lan was pleased.

He caught the fleeting thought that slipped through Hux’s mind: “He’s even better than Ren. He’s wasted as a guard!”

Lan was elated.

They chatted lightly whilst they ate, not really discussing anything of import. Hux was as surprised at himself as Lan was, that he allowed--requested!--his guard to dine with him. Well, he reasoned, I spend my life with the Rens; perhaps I should better acquaint myself. He refused to acknowledge his loneliness; he wished for no Force-users to discern the fact of it, though Lan could practically taste it on his tongue.

Of course, Hux didn’t realize they all knew already of his isolation.

Strangely, Hux felt almost at ease with Lan. His gentleness drew Hux in, so unique did he find it. No one had ever behaved so gently with him, not even Asher or Valance. Or Ren himself. Surely, though, the possibility of Ren possessing such a softness existed, since Ren was his clone.

Hux studied the Ren, his face more acceptably pretty than the original’s, his personality so different. Curious, he paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth and suddenly asked, “What is it like, being a clone?”

Indelicate perhaps, but his curiosity goaded him. He shocked himself.

Lan considered a moment, staring down at his own bowl.

“Forgive me, I--” Hux began.

“No! No, it’s okay. I’m just trying to think,” Lan assured him. He cocked his head. “I guess it’s strange, since we weren’t really born. We were already adults. It’s normal to us, but we’re not really even three yet, right? For me, that’s the only weird thing.”

He took a bite of food, chewed slowly as he contemplated. Hux put his spoon down and waited.

“I know we’re genetic copies of the Supreme Leader, but I don’t really feel like we are. We’ve been altered, just a little, physically. But more than that, I don’t think anyone else but us clones realizes that we are all so different from Kylo Ren. I mean, Master and Valance--they get it.”

Hux felt chagrined, just a little.

“It’s more like--we each take after a parent in all our different ways. Kazan has his temper, but he’s really friendly and flirtatious. No clue where he gets it. Mika secretly has a temper, but he looks more like Ren’s grandmother than the Supreme Leader himself. Does that make sense?”

Hux nodded. “It does, actually.” 

Lan put his spoon in his mouth thoughtfully. “I think, sometimes, my brothers are frustrated by the Supreme Leader. He seems to forget we’re individuals, not just his guards. He doesn’t even know our names.”

Hux winced. Lan spoke the truth, of course, though the truth made him dismayed.

“You, though, your grace, you actually know our names. We are all very loyal to you. I don’t think that’s something we inherited from the Supreme Leader,” Lan said bluntly.

Hux gaped at him a moment before Lan realized what he’d said.

“Forgive me, your grace!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to imply--I mean. My intention was not to insult the Supreme Leader!”

Hux closed his mouth and gave a mirthless laugh.

“He’ll hear nothing from me. He takes any criticism poorly, as you know.”

Lan stood. How he came to be so tactless with Hux he had no idea. Perhaps being in a space that belonged solely to Kylo Ren was beginning to agitate him. Perhaps the inherent darkness and gloom of this place was seeping into him. He trembled.

“Forgive me, your grace. I overstepped. Let me clean up, and I’ll leave you.”

“It’s fine,” Hux murmured and gestured towards Lan’s chair.

Ren’s chair.

Even Hux wondered at himself right now. He should be incensed, but he found himself glumly sympathizing with the truth of Lan’s words.

Lan shook his head. “No, sir. I really should leave you be. I’ve still got to introduce myself to the Supreme Leader’s mother,” Lan at last replied, his eyes downcast.

“Well, perhaps you should take her some of your food. I think she’d enjoy it.”

Lan gazed hopefully at him.

“Yes, your grace.”

Lan returned to the kitchen to clean up after himself and to pack some leftovers for Leia. Hux sagged in his chair, resigning himself to a lonely dinner. He didn't really understand what exactly had just happened between him and Lan, nor could he comprehend why he felt almost sorrowful. Perhaps because any camaraderie he ever felt with anyone was always so short-lived.

As if he heard Hux, Lan returned from the kitchen, food container in hand.

“Your grace,” he said with intent, “I enjoyed talking with you very much. My brothers and I appreciate the fact that you can tell us apart, even if few others can.”

Leaving Hux to sit silent and perplexed, Lan left. As the door closed behind him, Mika turned to him. 

“Your helmet,” he said.

Lan blanched. He had no desire to return after his words. It seemed anticlimactic, embarrassing. And he willingly admitted to himself that he did not wish to return to Kylo Ren’s domain any time soon.

Then the door opened.

“You forgot this,” Hux said, holding the aforementioned helmet out to Lan, a small smirk upon his lusciously pink lips.

“Th-thank you, your grace.”

Hux nodded. “Goodnight then. And thank you.”

Without awaiting Lan’s reply, he closed the door.

Chero chuckled gruffly behind Lan.

“My, you seem to have left an impression, Lan,” Mika teased.

“No--!” Lan yelped and blushed.

“Did Master Asher really tell you to come feed Hux?” Mika pressed.

Lan’s gaze shifted; he seemed to stare through the door, all the way into the suite to the table where Hux sat alone, eating. Lan sighed.

“She didn’t need to,” he said and left his brothers.

“Care to make a wager, brother?” Mika asked.

“No. Kylo Ren will never cede anything he thinks is his to anyone else,” Chero replied.

Mika shrugged. “What if he didn’t have a choice?”

  
  


*

  
  


Sometime later, Ren returned to their quarters. He sighed as he entered the living room and landed heavily upon the sofa beside Hux.

“Have a good dinner?” Hux asked him gently.

“You’re mad that I wasn’t here.” he said. His tone was harsher than he intended, defensive.

“No, Ren. I actually meant my question sincerely,” He wanted to ask why Ren still persisted in thinking everything Hux asked was a personal attack. How could Ren still not see? How could he still not possibly understand?

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ren studied him, as much as he was able without using the Force. His gaze dropped to his hands in his lap.

“It was good. A little awkward, but okay,” he answered finally. His tone was almost apologetic, which was as close as Hux could expect to an apology. “I didn’t leave anything for you. Were you okay?” he asked suddenly. He’d only just realized, Hux knew, that eating without Ren generally meant that Hux either ate nothing or ate only ration bars, just as he used to, before Ren began cooking for him.

Yet to Ren’s surprise, Hux nodded with a little smile and said, “Yes, actually. Lan came to cook for me.”

Ren narrowed his eyes.

“He said Asher told him,” Hux continued.

“She was with me all day. When could she have?”

Hux shrugged. “I don’t know how you Force-users communicate with each other.”

Ren scowled.

Hux rolled his eyes, rising to his knees. He crawled into Ren’s lap and rested his forehead to Ren’s.

“It was good. I’ve received suitable sustenance. Asher and the Rens were doing their duty and looking out for me. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Ren pulled his face away, but Hux placed a hand to his scarred cheek sweetly and murmured, “I didn’t starve. Isn’t that enough? But I’m glad you’re back,” he added, nuzzling Ren. “I miss you when you’re gone so long.”

Ren huffed. “Need a consolation prize for your troubles.”

Hux smirked down at him and wriggled in Ren’s lap. “Now that you mention it,” he replied.

This time, Ren smiled back.

  
  


*

  
  


Lan had shown him everything; every single smile and sneeze, the little line that appeared between his lush red brows as he frowned in concentration. The stifling atmosphere of Kylo Ren to which Hux was either accustomed or of which he took no notice. The pleasure he took in Lan’s food. Kriff, he was even more lovely, if possible. Or it was Lan’s memory coloring the whole experience with more vibrancy and delight. Hux’s hair shone like a beacon, and his grin surely wasn’t that perfect. It couldn’t be, Errol thought.

Except he knew it was.

He envied his brother, yes. Absolutely. But he also could not begrudge precious Lan this glimpse of joy, not when Lan shared it with him. Not when Lan had been the only one to think of going to Hux, because he knew Hux was hopeless in the kitchen.

Now he listened to be certain Lan was still asleep.

He hadn’t meant to intrude on this private moment. He’d only wanted to reach out to Hux. To see how Lan had made him feel. Out of jealousy, yes, but also out of some small sense of hope that Lan had planted the seed of himself in Hux’s heart, to grow and choke Kylo out of it.

But intruded Errol had. And now that he had, his senses came alive. His body thrummed with pleasure through the Force, and he lay gasping at Kylo Ren’s every touch along Hux’s body. Errol grew hard and felt his own release as he sensed Hux through the Force screaming Ren’s name.

He rolled over gasping to find Lan’s eyes upon him.


	12. This is Hot Blood

The awkward sentiments betwixt the hitherto inseparable brothers hung palpably in the air the next morning; so much so that Errol preferred to trade his shift with Kero, though Kazan, with whom he now found himself partnered, often frustrated him with his utter foolishness and foul temper. Of late, however, Kazan often mooned about the Praetorian suite; Errol gathered that his brother must be smitten with someone. He wanted to delve in to Kazan’s gossip and ignore the facts of the previous night. To ignore that Lan had caught him out, that they weirdly both held such intense feelings for such a man but acted upon those feelings so differently. And had done since their birth, so to speak. Errol knew that they had both wanted Hux the moment they’d seen him. And only being clones of Kylo Ren made that make any sense at all.

Stupid that Ren himself didn’t see it, Errol thought.

When Lan awakened, he stared at his brother’s bed for a long while, his thoughts and emotions complicated. He had felt Errol infringe upon Hux and Ren. He had felt their pleasure and Errol’s through the Force, so potent was it all, so in tune were the two brothers. Usually.

But he realized Errol was hiding something from him last night. He worried what that might mean.

He also worried, this morning, about the task he had ignored last night. After talking to Hux and recovering from nearly drowning in the miasma the Supreme Leader left behind him, Lan couldn’t bear the thought of meeting the Supreme Leader’s mother. He couldn't help but wonder, with no small amount of trepidation, if Ren had inherited his misery from her.

If Hux could live with that oppressive fog, he must truly be Force-null. Even then, even someone who lacked any sensitivity should feel something. Should be able to comprehend how it would affect one. Hux was not an oblivious man, but he seemed fully unaware of the unnerving aura of their suite.

It terrified Lan in a way Ren himself didn’t; it terrified him leaving Hux there to dwell in it.

So no. He could not have abided Ren’s mother, no matter what she was really like.

Now, he decided to put it off no longer. Rip off the bacta patch. Perhaps it would all be fine.

He sat and meditated and then showered and dressed, and then managed a quick breakfast.

“What’s the hurry?” Valance asked. He always took breakfast with them. At this point, he was barely a Knight of Ren. Without Kylo directly with them, the knights defaulted to being led by Trudgen; Valance held no loyalty to him, or any of the others. Only to Ren and Asher. And Hux.

The other knights didn’t seem to care.

Lan stuffed one of his muffins from yesterday into his mouth.

“I’m going to see Leia,” he replied once he’d swallowed.

Valance’s eyes lit up. “You’ll actually get to talk to her,” he said. “The other lads didn’t, sadly. But I think you’ll like her.”

He smiled at Lan. Relief tentatively sneaked into his heart at Valance’s words. He sighed.

“Nervous?” Kero asked.

“Yes,” Lan said.

Kero waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t be. Everyone likes you. She’ll adore you, I'm sure.”

“That’s not true,” Lan insisted.

“Yes, it is,” Chero muttered.

“Except maybe Kylo,” Mika added snidely. “He doesn’t really like anyone.”

“Hey, now,” Valance scolded. “That isn’t true. He may be a handful, but he’s my brother.”

Mika pulled a disgusted face. Kero leaned closer to him to murmur into his ear, and he immediately slumped.

“Forgive me, Val,” Mika said simply.

Valance patted his arm. “Of course.”

Lan watched his family. He loved them dearly. The fact that Errol kept a secret from him hurt a bit. They never had secrets.

No matter.

Deciding not to dwell on any of it, Lan bid his goodbyes and left his family for the last surviving member of Kylo Ren’s. 

What a sad thing, Lan thought. No wonder Ren was unhappy.

  
  


*

  
  


Lan arrived, unfortunately, at the same time as Hux and A’Yara. And--of course, because the Force had apparently decided to punish him for his audacity with Hux last night--Errol and Kazan were guarding Leia.

Lan groaned to himself as he approached the door.

“Ah, good morning,” A’Yara said, studying him.

“Hello,” Lan replied quietly. He noticed Errol staring staunchly ahead in a desperate attempt to pretend both Lan and Hux were elsewhere.

“Lan.” Hux spoke now, his tone one of surprise. “I assumed you’d come last night.”

“I, uh, didn’t manage to, your grace. But I could come back later, if you wish.”

Nonsense. I'm only dropping in for a moment.”

He opened the door. Lan and A’Yara followed him in.

Errol watched Kazan’s head follow her as she entered, closed the door behind herself.

Kazan sighed.

“We are a lovelorn lot, aren’t we?” Errol asked with grim humor.

“Stupid Kylo Ren. His fault,” Kazan muttered.

Inside, A’Yara greeted Leia and Taro and went over her agenda for the day briefly. Then she and Taro went to the lab to prepare for the day.

Hux approached Leia’s chaise calmly.

“How are you this morning?” he asked coolly. Under the guise of his mask, Lan’s mouth dropped in shock. He knew the Chancellor and the General were enemies during the war, but he had expected Hux to give the woman a far warmer greeting. She was, essentially, his mother-in-law.

Though perhaps that was naive of him, he thought.

“I’m doing very well, thank you,” Leia replied just as coolly. “What brings you here this morning?” she continued, and then added after a moment, “Your grace.”

One side of Hux’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Just checking in, General. Seeing if you have need of anything.”

She actually seemed to consider it a moment and surprised Hux when she replied intensely, “Tea. Some books. Maybe--” and here she paused, “do you allow pets or droids in here? It’s a little quiet at night by myself.”

The Chancellor was taken aback a moment. Lan watched his golden lashes, so long they dropped, flutter in surprise.

“Of course,” Hux replied after a moment. He didn’t elaborate on the matter, only nodded and bid her farewell. Before leaving, he seemed to recall something and turned back to her. “General, this is the final Ren. His name is Lan. I think you’ll like him.”

Lan could feel his cheeks burn. He was grateful for his mask.

The door slid shut behind Hux and left Lan and Leia silently, awkwardly, staring each in the other’s direction.

“I brought you this,” Lan blurted, holding out the container of food from the night before. “I made it. I like to cook.”

Now Leia was surprised.

He studied her, looking for any similarities between Ren and her, between himself and this strange woman who, nonetheless, had provided some of his genetic makeup.

“Take off your mask, please,” she said, and he obeyed instantly.

She considered him. “You all look so much like Kylo, but so different. Same eyes,though.” She smiled.

Like her eyes, he thought. He should know. He saw six other pairs similar to theirs every day.

“So, Lan. Tell me truthfully,” she said. “How do you like it here?”

“Here, as in, the galaxy, Coruscant, or serving your son and his grace?” Lan asked. She really wasted no time, he thought.

She arched a brow. She noticed how Hux had been called by his honorific, even if her son had not.

“All of the above,” she replied.

He gave a small smile. “It is all fantastic. I had no expectations, but I find everything amazing.”

Both her brows rose now.

“Do they treat you well?” she asked.

He nodded. “The Supreme Leader really doesn’t pay much attention to us, but Chancellor Hux knows our names and can tell us apart.”

She wondered if Hux had slept with them all, and that was why he knew them apart.

“No,” Lan replied with a frown, in response to her stray thought. “He has never touched us. He is faithful to the Supreme Leader.”

He flushed, wondering if he’d said too much.

“Are you all Force-sensitive?” Leia asked curiously.

He nodded.

“And all loyal to Hux?”

He nodded again.

“You do know, Lan, what sort of man he is? I don’t suppose you do. He engineered the destruction of five planets and billions--”

“Starkiller. Yes, we all know it. He has made sure we are all fully educated on the war. He accepted that we were all horrified, even if he justifies it to himself.”

“And you’re still loyal to him?” she asked, certainly shocked.

He gave no reply but returned her appraising stare with equal measure.

“Well, there must be something to him,” she said at last, shrugging. She held out a hand. “Let us not be awkward. I’d like to be friends, Lan.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied easily, any affront forgiven instantly, as was his wont. He grasped her hand, so much smaller than his own, and could sense her strength--and the cancer that ravaged her.

“So, tell me about yourself,” she said and shifted a bit to make room for him on the chaise. He smiled and sat beside her, wanting to know about this woman who was, in some peculiar way, already dear to him. The Ren in him very much yearning to know Mother.

  
  


*

  
  


Later, much later, he left for duty, which was, he found, the only reason he would have left Leia. He fairly floated back to his room, only nodding at Errol and Kazan as he left Leia.

He could tell them all about it tonight, or in the morning.

Elated, he arrived promptly as usual, unlike Ren, at the Supreme Leader’s door to relieve General Phasma’s troopers.

Hux exited just as he took his place beside Kero.

“Ah,” Hux said. “And how was your afternoon with General Organa?” he asked.

“Delightful, your grace,” Lan replied cheerfully.

Hux looked a touch surprised by the note of joy he detected in Lan’s voice.

“Very good,” he replied noncommittally. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “the Supreme Leader and I have a meeting with General Phasma. We will meet him in my office.”

Hux strode toward their personal turbolift. Kero and Lan shot each other a look.

“He never talks like this to us on his way to work,” Kero thought at Lan, who could only shrug.

“If you, ah, might cook for us tonight, Lan, the Supreme Leader would be much obliged,” Hux said. Though he stood with his usual perfect posture, hands holding his datapad, his voice held uncommon apprehension.

“What in all Sith hells, Lan?” Kero thought without his usual laconic tone.

“I don’t know!” Lan replied.

The two entered the lift after Hux and stood facing the doors, ever at the ready. Hux ignored them as they silently commiserated. He chewed on his lower lip nervously. Perhaps having Lan cook for Ren was a miscalculation. But surely, if Lan were to prepare a meal for Ren himself, then Ren would feel less threatened. He could see that Lan was just kind and loyal. Hux and Ren could enjoy the meal together.

When the lift stopped, the clones flanked Hux and continued their talk in consternation whilst Hux was lost in his own thoughts about Ren.

As they approached Hux’s office, he grimaced. Two Knights of Ren stood casually outside the door, chatting casually with General Pryde.

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the Supreme Leader rather than gossiping?” Hux snapped. 

Pryde and the two knights turned toward Hux.

“Forgive us, your grace,” Pryde replied smoothly.

Unctuous man, Hux thought.

One of the knights cocked his head in Hux’s direction; Kero and Lan tensed.

“I merely wished to inquire whether I might join in the holomeeting with Phasma? Since I have knowledge of politicking on Canto Bight,” Pryde said with forced humility.

“No, I think not, General Pryde. Should you need to know anything, or should we require you input, I will alert you,” Hux replied coldly. To the knights, he said, “You’re dismissed. The Praetorian Guard will handle everything else tonight.” He waved in a distracted dismissal, and one of the knights grunted in reply.

“Your grace, really, I--” Pryde began, but shut his mouth when the Chancellor glared at him.

“Goodnight, general,” Hux snapped.

Pryde wisely said nothing, only nodded abruptly and followed the knights in retreat.

Hux sighed and entered his office, more than happy to see Ren and Phasma.

“We should keep an eye on them,” Kero muttered.

Lan nodded.

The two knights waited at the lift for an irate Pryde. He barged through the doors ahead of them, scowling and cursing under his breath.

“General--” one began.

He held up a hand. “Not until we’re on your ship,” he snapped.

They took the lift to the public floors and made their way to the hangar. Hux and Ren had their own docking bay where Ren’s Upsilon and Silencers--For Hux had made him a new, glorious modified fighter--and Hux’s transport rested. Everyone else had to make space wherever they found it. Some days this was nearly impossible, so vast and populated was Coruscant, and so busy was this, the seat of the new imperial government.

Luckily the knights mostly stayed on Coruscant and had more or less claimed their own spots for the Night Buzzard and their smaller, personal vessels. And no one had any desire to reckon with a Knight of Ren. And as they approached the Night Buzzard with Pryde, mechanics and pilots alike scattered before them.

Pryde strode onto the ship and made his way to the dimly lit lounge area.

Ap’lek sprawled on one of the lounges, gripping the ass of a young xeno as they rode him. Pryde had no clue what they were, nor did he care. 

“Get out,” he spat, and the alien yelped in surprise. But Ap’lek refused to release them.

“It’s been ages, old man. We’ll be done in a minute. Won’t we, darling?” he cooed. His conquest murmured something Pryde didn’t understand and then moaned.

“Oh, for--” he sighed. “Where’s Trudgen?”

Ap’lek waved aft, and Pryde stomped his way back.

“What vile compatriots you have, Trudgen,” Pryde sniffed as he crossed the threshold into the galley.

Trudgen sat, quite unconcerned, in one of the booths, Uruk beside him. The two stared at a holographic map of a star system suspended in three dimensions above them. Uruk’s long, broad, blunt blue fingers pointed to a spot surrounded by nothing but tiny pinpricks of light representing stars.

“Nothing there,” he was saying. “We scoured the whole asteroid, and nothing.”

Trudgen tapped at the datapad in his large hand, and the little dot corresponding to the asteroid turned red.

“Wish we had more of us. Ugh,” he said.

“How goes the search? Not well, I take it,” Pryde sighed and sat gingerly beside Trudgen. Who, at least, kept the areas he occupied presentable.

Trudgen eyed him. “Sorry about Ap’lek. They’ve been at it everywhere since they met last night,” he said.

“Last night? Shouldn’t he be looking--”

“He was,” Uruk interjected. “He’s how we know there’s nothing here, he and I.”

“They need their sport,” Trudgen told Pryde. “Tell me you don’t have your way with fancy young things on Canto Bight.”

“I concede your point,” Pryde said. “Where will you look next? I might be able to requisition troopers for you.”

“No,” Uruk said. “No troopers. Just us. They won’t know what to look for. They won’t be able to tell. And we don’t want them to.”

“They are expendable,” Pryde retorted.

“Are you willing to bet Chancellor Hux won’t notice missing soldiers?” Trudgen asked.

“No, you’re right.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Uruk told him. “We’ll find the holocron.” 

“And then we won’t need to deal with Chancellor Hux anymore,” Trudgen added.

“And Kylo Ren will be brought to heel--or be destroyed,” Pryde intoned, and his smile grew sharp and wicked.

Neither Trudgen nor Uruk disagreed. They knew to whom they were loyal. They simply needed to bide their time until their master could be reborn.

  
  


*

  
  


“Has Kero figured anything out with this thing?” Errol asked. He lay sprawled on the floor beside Mika’s ivory vanity. It was an antique from the days before Senator Padme Amidala Naberrie. Atop it, Mika had arranged various ungents and cosmetics, his silver fathier-bristled brush and matching comb. As he brushed out his hair from the day’s stresses, he stared at his brother beside him.

“He thinks he’s close. Something about capturing souls?” I’m not certain. He talks to himself when he’s studying. Most of what I get is just from that,” Mika replied.

“Capturing a soul, huh? Can it be destroyed once it’s captured?”

“I’m not sure. We’ll need to ask Kero.”

Errol nodded and continued to study the little cube in his hands. The colors seemed to shift and change as he examined it, almost taking on the aspect of some hideous face.

He put it down.

“Sinister kark, this,” he said absently.

“Indeed,” Mika agreed.

“But if it keeps Hux safe and in charge--”

“Indeed.”

  
  


*

  
  


Dinner was delicious. Too delicious. After their meeting with Phasma, both Ren and his chancellor had been in high spirits. And upon their return to their chambers, Hux had invited that clone into their home. That Lan. To cook for them. Hux was so pleased.

Why? Was Ren’s food not good enough? Was he challenging Ren? Threatening him? Did he actually want to fuck this clone?

Ren scowled at the wall in their main room, slumped upon the couch. The holoset was silent.

Hux stared down at him in dismay and drank his wine.

“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Ren sneered.

“Well, he’s your clone, Ren,” Hux said, rolling his eyes. “Of course, he’d be.”

“Good obedient housewife?” Ren spat, though quietly.

Hux glanced down the hall toward the kitchen. Music came from that direction; they heard Lan singing along to it, his voice low and melodious.

“Sings like a bird too.”

“Ren,” Hux scolded now in exasperation. “I wanted you to take a night off from cooking to relax with me and have a treat. If you don’t cook , our meals aren’t as good. But he’s good, so I thought you might enjoy it. See that he’s a good soldier and loyal to us.”

Ren glared at Hux.

Hux looked down, his soft lashes drooping against his cheekbones.

“I wanted something nice for you. I'm sorry, I’ll tell him to leave.”

Hux turned, and Ren was suddenly, unaccountably stricken by how sad Hux looked, and how very pretty. He shot up from the couch and grabbed Hux’s arm, nearly spilling the wine, catching it just in time with the Force.

“You wanted to do this for me? So I could enjoy a meal without the work?”

Hux nodded. He peered at Ren through his golden forest of lashes. Ren wanted desperately to lick them, to suck on them. To eat every inch of hair on Hux’s body.

“All right, then. Thank you,” Ren said simply, plainly with grudging concession.

And Hux smiled, delighted. How this could delight this man, of all men, Ren had no clue.

But Hux was delighted. And delighted Hux was irresistibly lovely.

Ren leaned in to kiss him. He tasted fruity and woody, like his wine.

“Then I’ll be sure to enjoy not having to cook for you for once,” Ren told him.

  
  


*

Somewhere across the galaxy, Rey sat in the sun, eyes closed in concentration. Beside her sat Finn and a woman named Jannah, whom they’d met in the Endor system. Both were Force-sensitive; both defected from the First Order. And Rey somehow found herself training them.

She’d had Leia and Luke before.

Now she had only Luke.

She opened her eyes and stood in frustration.

“Because of Leia?” she heard Finn ask behind her gently.

Rey nodded. “I can’t help but worry, of course.”

“But Luke said it was safe, right?” Jannah asked as she stood.

“Yes. Still--”

“Poe is back!” came a shout, and Rose jogged into the clearing, dwarfed by the massive trees surrounding them. 

Rey sighed in relief. Taking Finn’s hand, she followed after Rose and Jannah to where Poe was exiting the transport. She and Finn ran to embrace Poe, and he kissed them both soundly.

“Oh, man, I’m glad I’m back. Coruscant is truly weird,” he said.

“Is Leia safe?” Rey demanded.

“Weirdly, yeah? Kylo Ren seemed genuinely happy to see her,” he replied. “I need food. I’m starving. And about to fall over from the shock of just--” he gestured helplessly--”all of it.”

Finn drew him across the landing field and into the little building the three shared. Jannah and Rose’s was right next door, but they all five crammed into the tiny sitting room to hear Poe’s tale. Once Finn had grabbed him some food, and Rey drinks for everyone, Poe told them all about Leia’s reception. Hux. The Praetorian Guards. Hux and Ren.

That got him stares.

“They hated each other!” Finn cried.

“Apparently not, babe,” Poe replied.

Rey stood and left the little hut. Outside, the sun was setting. The clean air left the sky a bluish smudge, bright with new stars. The fields around the Resistance base came alive with peeping and buzzing and life.

“What’s wrong?”

Rey turned to find Luke staring at her. She began pacing.

“Ben. The Starkiller. How will Leia ever get him back if he’s in the grip of the Starkiller?” she asked.

“Remember, Rey, you don’t really know Ben,” Luke reminded her.

“I know,” she answered, agitated. “I know, and I’m sad and angry because I couldn’t help him. I should have been able to.”

“He isn’t your responsibility. Neither is Leia. That in there?” He pointed to the little building, her home, really, and she could hear her lovers and their two dearest friends yelling about Ben and Hux. “They’re your responsibility.”

“Is she safe?” Rey asked. She refused to cry, but she missed Leia and feared for her so much.

“Yes. She is. Her guards are two former students of mine, loyal to Kylo, and--” he paused, “six clones of Kylo Ren himself.”

“Six--clones--” she repeated, nonplussed. “Why would anyone clone Ben once, never mind six times?” she yelled.

“So he can shirk work,” Luke snarked. “But they are also loyal and will keep her safe.”

“From Hux even?”

Luke stared at her. “Poe told you Kylo and Hux are together. Hux did all of this. He did all of this for Kylo. He would do anything for Kylo.”

Rey’s brows shot up, and Luke smirked.

“The Starkiller loves him?” she asked. “Enough to actually be honest in helping Leia?”

“Yes. I think it’s the first time he’s ever been able to love anything. But Kylo Ren doesn’t seem to understand that love at all. Or that he might feel the same about the Chancellor.”

Rey snorted.

Luke met her eyes. “He still thinks he wants you beside him to rule the galaxy, Rey.”

She grimaced. “ Absolutely not. He’d be an even worse spouse than he was a short-lived confidante.” She considered a moment, cocking her head. “I almost feel sorry for Hux. Almost.”

Luke chuckled.

“Rey?” Finn called. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

He stood in the doorway, leaning against the lintel. His concern was obvious. She smiled.

“I am. Luke and I were just talking.”

“About Kylo?” Finn asked.

She nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And I’m very, very glad that I have you and Poe. You lot are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He smiled and kissed her.

“Wah, don’t kiss without me!” Poe whined from inside.

Hand in hand, Rey and Finn went back to their little family. Yes, she was happy here, even if she missed Leia and worried for her. 

Maybe she would have to see Leia for herself.


	13. I Only Dream of You

Once again, Hux uttered the words, “I don’t care if you win. I need Kylo Ren to lose.” And the furious sneer on his face hurt Ren so much, but not as much as it hurt when Pryde shot Hux, his body dropping and sliding across the floor. Hux dead, and Ren neither there to stop it, nor inclined to do so. And then everything falling apart. Ren losing himself, all of his power, the girl--and worst of all, Hux. Because Hux had betrayed him once again. Of course, how could they move past Hux nearly pulling a blaster on Ren, or Ren choking and throwing Hux.

Ren’s eyes opened seemingly of their own volition. He lay panting, heart racing, in their bed on Coruscant. Hux’s head was tucked beneath his chin, red-gold hair tickling his lips. His breathing was even, quiet, interrupted only by the occasional delicate snore. Ren’s tongue darted out from between his lips to caress Hux’s hair. He could smell the shampoo he procured for Hux. It reminded him of cinnamon cookies. He leaned his head gingerly forward so as not to alert Hux to the fact that Ren was sucking on his hair.

Sometimes Ren did that. It calmed him. He’d never done that to anyone else.

Hux mumbled and nestled more against Ren’s bosom. His hand moved up Ren’s torso to rest over his heart.

Ren released Hux’s hair and stared at the pale, delicate hand curled on his breast.

That was the second time in just a couple of days he’d had that dream. That nightmare. What did the Force want from him? What did it want him to know? Twice he’d dreamed of Hux’s death. His betrayal. Perhaps, Ren thought, this is a warning. I need to be on my guard against Hux. He wants power; he wants to rule. I need to be careful of him.

Ren frowned. He could feel the anger rising.

And then Hux murmured, “Ren--” so very quietly, so sweetly, that Ren felt compelled to stroke his bright head.

Hux stirred, rose his head to smile sleepily at Ren.

“Hello, love,” he yawned.

“Hello, yourself,” Ren replied.

“Why are you awake? Are you all right?” Hux asked, reaching a hand to lay on Ren’s scarred cheek.

Ren shrugged. “Bad dream.”

Hux furrowed his brow. “ Anything I can do, baby?”

Yes, Ren wanted to tell him. Let me into your head so I can see whether or not I can trust you. To prove you’re mine.

Instead, he shook his head.

Hux recognized the deflection for what it was. He rolled off Ren and onto his side, held his arms open.

“Come,” he said simply.

Ren hesitated. He grew confused; he thought too much--

Hux pulled Ren to him, held the great, shaggy dark head to his narrow chest. Ren’s ear lay above Hux’s heart. It’s rhythm calmed Ren, and he relaxed his body into Hux’s.

They remained thus for a while longer, dropping into and out of consciousness together, until they awakened a final time. Hux crawled from under Ren and reached back down to take the Supreme Leader’s hand, drawing him from their nest. He led Ren to the refresher.

Hux turned on the water nearly to scalding, and bade Ren enter the doorless stall, fitted with Nabooian tile in golds and oranges. Now that they were planet-bound, there was always water for a proper shower. Or, even better, a bath. Hux gazed wistfully at their giant bath, sunken into the fresher floor. Black marble shot through with silver and red. Perhaps tonight, he thought, and joined Ren under the double spray.

They washed each other’s hair and bodies tenderly, for there were precious few mornings during which they could take their time with each other. Their hands slid up slick torsos and into clean hair; grabbed at soft flesh, parted thighs. Their mouths found each other. Soft gasps emerged from a long, pale throat, followed by a sharp cry of, “Ren!”

Hux chanted Ren’s name, a part of his daily liturgy in the worship of his patron god, who had no idea how he should be worshiped: on one’s knees, on one’s back, in the throes of passion, and weeping his holy name. Hux never believed in gods until Ren. Once Ren had called him, Hux dedicated himself to the cause of Ren. He didn’t know precisely when it happened, but Ren had become his reason, his joy. It took him forever to realize Ren mattered most; but now that he had, he threw himself into his newfound salvation.

Ren had reminded him what it meant to be alive. To be human. To feel. To be not simply cold, ruthless ambition and cunning. Sometimes Hux hated himself for this weakness, but never enough to break himself free of his devotion to Ren.

After bathing, Ren cooked them both a quick breakfast.

Hux blew on his piping hot cup of tarine tea and studied Ren.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked, smiling.

Ren cocked his head, considering. “Lunch with Mother, training the new pilots.”

Hux’s eyes brightened. “Very good. There are few people from whom better to learn.”

Ren smirked. His piloting skills were an area of confidence for him. Truly, Hux had rarely seen a better pilot. Even Dameron, the Resistance’s golden boy pest, couldn’t compare to Ren, he thought.

“You?” Ren asked.

Hux shrugged. “Meetings, lunch with a returning Phasma. The usual. Oh!” Hux started as he remembered something.

“Hmm?”

Hux downed his tea and rose. “I owe your mum a visit,” he replied.

“What? Are you two bosom buddies now?” Ren asked in disbelief.

“No, no,” Hux answered, bending at the waist. He rose with Millicent in his arms. “I agreed to give her a friend. We’re reprogramming Kay-four to attend to her, but he’s not ready yet. I might send a BB unit later.”

“You’re going to spoil your mortal enemy, my mom.”

Hux shrugged. “Might as well impress your mother with my charm.”

He put Millie in her harness and leash; she pulled excitedly at the lead, trying to drag her human--albeit futilely--to the door.

“We’re not going to the gardens, Millie,” he told her. He leaned over Ren and kissed him deeply. “You still taste like cock,” he purred. “I’ll see you later, baby.”

“Later."

Hux huffed out a chuckle and left their quarters, led by his orange tabby.

Ren remained seated a bit longer, pondering his dream and how to reconcile it with everything about Hux. Their relationship. How Hux treated him. The desire he felt palpably from Hux nearly constantly.

Is this real? he asked himself. Or is this all my undoing?

He despaired of the latter. This, here and now, was the first time he’d ever felt accepted. He didn’t know what that meant. Or he wasn’t willing to face what it might mean.

Ren felt but didn’t truly understand that he found it easier to doubt and become angry than to accept such joy at face value.

  
  


*

  
  


As Hux left with Millicent, he ignored the two Knights of Ren guarding their door. He was quite certain that their sentiments of loathing were mutual. But as long as they protected Ren, as long as they remained loyal, he’d allow their presence. Not that he trusted their loyalty, not at all, no! The moment they confirmed his suspicions, he would have the Rens destroy them. Though the clones were largely untried, they were able to actually wield the Force successfully, unlike the knights; and surely, being clones of one of the most exquisite fighters to whom Hux had ever borne witness gave the Rens the advantage.

Oh, yes, he prepared himself for the executions of the Knights of Ren at all times. And gleefully.

Speaking of the Rens, Asher and Kazan met Hux and Millicent at the royal turbolift. Kazan stood straight and close to Asher. His stance was aggressive. Hux glanced back briefly; the two knights were also posturing. Hux and Asher shared a look before she rolled her eyes and nudged Kazan.

"Let’s go. They really aren’t worth it,” she murmured to him.

He squared his shoulders and nodded somehow aggressively in his mask in acknowledgment. One of the knights grunted in response.

Hux entered the lift, and his two companions followed him.

“Taking Millie out, your grace?” Asher asked pleasantly.

Millicent rubbed Asher’s leg. She bent down to scratch her ears, eliciting a pleased purr.

“Mm, I sort of agreed to bring General Organa some company. Millicent can entertain her until her droids are ready,” Hux replied.

“Droids?”

Hux nodded. “I’ll be reprogramming Kay-four today and bring him to her tonight.”

“You could have a tech do that.”

Hux shook his head. “They can do the BB unit. Kay-four is mine. Only I will touch him.”

Hux sounded almost protective. Asher found that almost charming.

And then the lift opened, depositing them at Leia’s door.

Lan and Chero nodded in greeting.

Hux left the four of them to chat and update each other on any news. Or gossip. There was always gossip, he’d learned long ago. He entered into the main room of Leia’s suite to find her already awake and sitting at the large viewport overlooking the eastern portion of the palace grounds.

From here, the massive spires of Coruscant stretched into the distance, and the jumble of traffic zigzagged across the panorama. They couldn’t hear it, thank the Force, but the population made itself known everyday with reports of jams and accidents and general lack of aesthetics. Hux knew he needed to have a frank discussion with some urban planners to deal with the nonsense of over-populated, overly built-up Coruscant. 

“It’s always been a bit much,” Leia observed. Though the temperature of her suite was regulated like everywhere else in the palace, she sat curled under a blanket, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She turned towards him, limned in sunlight, and added, “I suppose you don’t mind, having grown up on star destroyers your whole life.”

“Actually,” he replied, “I think Coruscant is dreadful. It lacks the streamlined, quiet elegance of, say, my _Finalizer_.”

She smirked. “We agree on something,” she observed wryly.

“It would seem so,” he answered just as wryly.

“So what brings you down to see me today?”

He studied her. This woman who was his enemy his entire life. Whom he was raised to despise. How his father would rage at him for inviting her here. At helping her, trying to heal her. That in and of itself almost satisfied him, though his secret mortification at himself still couldn’t assuage him. But he stared for some minutes, and she shifted nervously. She knew nothing of his thoughts; meanwhile, he catalogued all the ways she reminded him of Ren. The stubborn chin. The hair, though lighter, with the same waves. The wide doe eyes. The aggravating personality.

“What?” she asked.

He shook his head and hoisted his cat. His little darling. Leia’s eyes widened.

“I’ve brought you a friend. She’s fairly easygoing and generally social, strangely enough. You’ll have a droid for company by this evening. A good model. He’s always been very loyal.”

Somehow, he felt nervous with her eyes on him so intently. He rambled about Kay-four and nearly forgot to properly introduce Millicent.

He suddenly feared Leia would steal everyone whom he loved from him.

“This,” he said, squelching his trepidation, “is Millicent.”

Millicent merely looked annoyed at having been picked up. She struggled a bit until he put her back down ever so gently, his baby.

“Where’s she from?” Leia asked.

“She’s, ah, my cat,” Hux explained. “I found her as a kitten and hid her in my room until I made general. She’s been with me longer than Ren.”

He felt his cheeks heat at this casual reference to his relationship with her son. She chose to ignore that fact in favor of being shocked.

“You have a cat?” she asked, nonplussed. “This adorable girl is your cat?”

“Yes,” Hux replied defensively. “She’s my baby.”

Leia erupted in a laugh. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

He frowned. Was she making fun of him?

She leaned forward and held out her hand.

“She looks well cared for,” Leia murmured.

“She is.”

Hux knelt and freed Millicent from her harness and leash. Cautiously, the lothcat approached Leia Organa and sniffed at her fingers. Despite Leia offering no food, Millie rubbed against the general’s fingers. She sniffed some more and proceeded to mark Leia, much to the woman’s delight. Leia Organa, Hux’s enemy, giggled and began to pet Millie in earnest.

It hurt a little, watching his girl be affectionate with Leia. Watching Millie jump onto the chaise with her and snuggle into the blanket.

Leia looked so pleased. Millie basked in the rays of the sunshine.

Would she steal everything from him? Had he made a mistake welcoming her, bringing Millie, introducing the Rens? Reuniting her with her son? If he had to choose, Ren would surely choose his mother over his--whatever Hux was to him. Nothing? Convenience? A warm body? He thought Ren had some fondness for him, but fondness was not love. It was not a thing that bound two people together inviolately. Forever. Hux had never expected longevity in the affections of a relationship until Ren, but now he feared he had made a grave error.

Ren would be his undoing. Was always destined to be. And he couldn’t bring himself even to desire stopping the inevitable tide of destruction.

Then again, he hoped, maybe he was being a pessimist. He’d believe that lie as long as he could.

He roused himself to find Leia staring at him.

“I won’t steal her,” she assured him, “but I very much appreciate you bringing her for a visit.”

He nodded silently before saying, “Good, good. You're welcome. Ren will bring her some things down in a bit. And tonight, a droid for you. Good day,” he added abruptly, and rushed from her chambers.

Puzzled, she watched him go before turning to Millicent. “Your father seems agitated.”

Millie gave a little cat sigh in response, as if to say, “What can you do? I’m used to it.”

Leia stroked her head and resumed the book A’Yara had brought her last night.

“He’s afraid,” Luke said.

Leia started with a tiny, “Oh!” as Millicent leapt to her feet.

“Sorry, sorry!” Luke exclaimed. He wilted under the glare of the small orange lothcat. Millie settled back against Leia with a grumble and proceeded to ignore Luke’s existence.

“What brings you here?” Leia asked, putting down her book.

“Just checking in. For Rey,” he replied.

She smiled fondly. “How is she?”

“Worried about you. They are all shocked and appalled at news of Kylo and Hux.”

She snorted. “It is shocking. But he brought me his pet for company. I can’t quite get a read on that one.”

Luke shrugged. “He’s afraid he’ll lose everything he’s ever loved. That you’ll steal it away. He hasn’t had much love in his life.”

“You pity him?” she asked intently, but her eyes were on the speeders rushing below.

With a sigh, Luke nodded. “I do, a bit. He’s acted like a monster and so has become a monster. He sees no other way to accomplish his goals. I see so much more than I did when I was living. He thinks he’s saving the galaxy. And all he really wants is to belong to your son.”

He kicked at the floor like a child. “I also know now that what I told Rey about the Jedi was at least partial truth. She’s going to be better than most of the rest of us.”

“I feel it. She’ll have the balance everyone else lacked.”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other, both feeling almost parental pride at Rey, despite her being the child of neither sibling.

*

  
  


“Hux wants us dead,” Vicrul growled.

He and Cardo stood in the turbolift as it descended further into the bowels of the palace. They were going farther than their hangar; they were going out into the city proper, because they could, because they needed their sport and had spent the last standard day being envious of Ap’lek and his new toy. If Pryde needed either of them he could rot in Sith hell until they’d sated themselves.

Cardo gave him a lackadaisical glance. Nothing could deter his mood, now he was free for the day.

“I could sense it, just a little, coming off him,” Vicrul explained gruffly.

Cardo shrugged. “Nothing he can do about it. Being at least superficially Kylo’s keeps us safe.”

“Don’t you ever worry that he’ll convince Kylo we’re extraneous?”

“Don’t worry, brother. Won’t happen. Besides, Hux has no Force abilities yet. By the time he comes into his power, well, we won’t be needing to worry.”

“We won’t have to bend the knee to Kylo anymore either.”

“Exactly.”

Vicrul sighed. “Maybe we should forget our indulgences and start looking for the holocron again.”

Cardo shook his head adamantly. “Absolutely fucking not. Don’t burn yourself out, Vic.”

“You’re right,” Vircrul agreed. Sans helmets and armor, they could see the grins they gave each other: toothy, wide, and sharp.

The lift stopped, and they exited together. The city spread out before them, a great buffet of vice, and they could not wait to taste of it.

  
  


*

  
  


Kero, Mika, and Errol all had the evening free. Lan had been dismayed at how closely the three of them had grown. Mostly because, though he knew not the reason, he realized that whatever Errol hid from him involved Kero and Mika; he felt in his heart no good would come of this secretive alliance.

But Errol would not confide in him. Nor would their brothers.

For now, the three schemers sat together once again in the bedroom of the two lovers. They were alone in the suite for now anyway, and Kero had called Errol in to join them. Errol sprawled on the floor beside Kero. Mika perched in his vanity seat, lover leaning against his legs, and braided Kero’s hair as ornately has the shorter length allowed.

“So what’s up?” Errol asked.

“I think I’ve figured it out. It’s not actually that difficult a ritual, but I'm not certain if the holocron can hold more than one soul,” Kero replied. His voice held a tone of excitement.

“No matter,” Errol replied. “Kylo is the important one. He’s the one we need to entrap. The scavenger--we can dispatch her ourselves, if need be. She’s not the one I’m worried about.”

“Ren will not go down easily,” Mika warned him.

“But he can be bested. Hux might want us dead, but I’ll settle for exile, if it keeps him safe and in charge,” Errol proclaimed, vowing this to himself once again.

Mike and Kero exchanged a look.

“I don’t want to die or be exiled,” Mika said crossly.

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care,” Kero murmured.

Mika leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of his head.

“My love,” he murmured.

“My heart,” Mika whispered back.

Errol turned away and gulped. Never things he’d be allowed to say to Hux. But if he succeeded, he could leave Hux in Lan’s hands. Lan was better suited anyway, Errol thought.

“So,” Mika prompted, and Errol pulled himself from his brief moment of lovelorn angst. “So,” Mika repeated, brows raised in curiosity, “what’s our plan?”

“Hmm, well, I'm hoping we can kill two mynoks with one blaster here,” Errol replied. “It’s simple. Hux is going to try to encourage the scavenger to visit Leia. He wants us to get her at the right moment. What he doesn’t know is that Kylo will be involved in that right moment.”

“But, like I said,” Kero interjected, “I’m not sure this thing can hold more than one soul.”

“It only needs to contain Ren,” Errol insisted. “We’ll deal with the girl ourselves, if it comes to that. Without Kylo Ren there to help her, it will be easier.”

“She’s bested him before,” Mika argued.

“One of him. Not three.”

“You’re positive, brother,” Mika asked, “that you are willing to let Hux despise you? I’m loyal to the point Kero is endangered. If anything happens to Kero,” Mika added, clutching at Kero’s shoulders, “I will destroy everything.”

Errol and Kero knew the truth of that statement. What they didn’t realize was the depth of Mika’s bitterness. Even towards people to whom he pledged loyalty, for whom he felt affection. Mika would not die, would not go willingly into exile, and would suffer no harm to come to Kero. What Mika wanted, what his family didn’t realize he wanted, was power. Autonomy. Of them all, perhaps only Mika realized what it meant for the Rens to be created. Their duty to protect their original could very well lead to the death of one of them. Mika resented being born only to die for something he didn’t choose. Had never chosen.

Kero sensed Mika’s intensity, if not his quiet rage, and turned to take Mika’s hands in his own. “All of this is assuming Hux doesn’t kill us,” Kero observed, and then bowed his head to kiss Mika’s fingers in order to ease him.

Mika shrugged elegantly. “Neither Val nor Asher would allow it, no matter what.”

Kero conceded his lover’s point. They both looked to Errol to await his response.

“Better a broken heart than a dead one,” he answered. He stood. “We await the chancellor’s pleasure, brothers. I bid you a fond good eve,” he added with a gallant little bow.

He knew when to leave. When their hands drifted more and more over each other’s bodies, it was time to take one’s leave.

He returned to his room only briefly to don his armor and helmet. If any of the Rens walked around off duty, they still wore their full armor. No one must know. It wasn’t ideal, of course, but it was their duty. For Asher, for Valance, and especially for Armitage Hux, Errol was happy to obey.

He made his way to Hux’s office. His brother and master must have been off duty, for two troopers guarded the door. They stood straighter and saluted. Errol caught a stray thought from one: She wondered how she could become one of the vaunted Praetorian Guard.

“You need the Force,” he told her lightly.

She blinked in surprise as he entered Hux’s office.

“Your grace,” he said with a bow.

Hux knelt on the floor, tinkering with the inner workings of a droid’s torso. He rose from his knees and winced.

Errol studied the long, pale, slim arms, the delicate shoulders and wrists. Hux was in an undershirt, a smudge of dirt or oil on his forehead. His slim hands were bare, the fingers fine and long. 

Kriff, he was gorgeous. Errol left his helmet on so he could stare freely.

“Errol?” Hux guessed.

“Yes, your grace. I came to tell you that Kero has figured out the holocron. At least enough to enact your plan.”

Hux’s eyes lit up. “Wonderful!”

He walked to a worktable along the wall by the viewport. The view was spectacular, but Hux’s back would be to it, were he seated.

“I know you three must be worried about Ren’s retaliation. I swear I’ll do all I can to protect you. But you may need to go into exile for a while,” Hux was saying. “I’m sorry for that.”

Errol shrugged and now removed his helm, in order to meet Hux’s gaze.

“Your grace, I am honored you chose to trust me with this task. I will accept whatever consequences my actions cause. As long as my brothers are safe--”

“Of course!” Hux said.

“And as long as you are safe. Just know, your grace, whatever I do, I am doing it only for you.”

Hux blinked in surprise.

Errol placed his mask back over his face and bowed deeply. “Your grace,” he murmured, and then he left.

Hux stood in shock, suddenly fearful of what he might be unleashing. At what Errol’s words might mean.


	14. There's Definitely No Logic to Human Behavior

Phasma stared at Hux in shock.

Errol’s words had lodged in Hux’s mind all morning until he told Phasma of it. All of it.

“This is a fine mess you’re about to make, Armitage. I want no part of it,” she said.

Hux studied her partially rebuilt face, so inhuman now; he easily read the anger in her gaze. She placed the container of her nutrient slurry harshly on his desk. It was a grayish sludge he and his researchers had created for her compromised digestive system. She always drank it without complaint, as she did with everything. Until now. Never had he seen her so angry, so disgusted--at him, of all people.

“You know Kylo Ren will hate you for this.”

He looked down at his meal from the kitchens. Not as good as Ren’s. Certainly not Lan’s.

“And Errol. How did you of all people not realize how he felt?” she demanded, her voice raising.

He managed to refrain from flinching at her fury.

“How could I realize how he felt?” Hux asked wearily.

“You know how I felt when you found me on the Supremacy,” she hissed.

His brow furrowed. “I’ve known you forever, Phasma.”

“Please rethink this. This is going to destroy you.”

He nodded, acquiescing.

She sighed and brought the slurry container to her lips, studied him. He didn't meet her gaze but stared forlornly down at his meal, barely touched. She was furious with him, but mostly because she discovered she was afraid for him. Sentimentality never had been used to describe her, but she came to appreciate Armitage Hux over the last decade and a half or so. To become fond. They’d almost always seen eye to eye on things; had protected each other and benefited from their camaraderie. Only now did she realize that she actually considered him a friend. Or as close as she could have to a friend. 

But this would destroy all they’d achieved. Everything for which they’d fought. For the first time in her life, she feared. She feared the choice she knew she’d have to make sooner rather than later; she never chose anyone but herself, and that was unlikely to change.

“So,” Hux spoke after a moment. “Tell me more of your success on Canto Bight.”

She sighed inaudibly. Here was normalcy. A relief. She leaned back in her chair and smiled coolly. 

“With pleasure,” she said.

This they shared: The joy of success, of winning; of destroying old, archaic traditions that only benefited the old and rich, and kept the Outer Rim in despair.

They gloried in showing the Core Worlds the vengeance those from the Outer Rim could visit upon them.

  
  


*

  
  


After Phasma left Hux, she wandered a bit, reacclimating to the capital. No matter where she went, sentients of all sorts stared at her. They knew who she was. What Hux had made of her--though, at the time, she’d wanted it. They could hear the manner in which she moved. The whirs and clicks she allowed because it lent her a certain sinister air. But at times she resented this new body of hers. Regretted it. She knew Hux did.

Maybe someday, she’d let herself wind down to nothing. Maybe someday, when she didn’t care about her relationship with Hux. He made her weak, but not as weak as Ren made him. In what little heart she possessed, she almost reviled how weak Hux had become for Ren. Thankless Ren. Stupid boy, she thought. Once, she’d enjoyed sparring with him, long before he was Supreme Leader. But no longer. He’d gotten more spoiled. Because, of course, Hux spoiled him. She ground down upon what remained of her teeth before the plasteel in her mouth sent an unpleasant, metallic taste along her tongue.

Were she more emotional and impulsive, she’d dispose of Ren’s mother herself, just to return things to normal. To return Hux to some semblance of himself.

She caught a glimpse of someone from the corner of her helmet’s sights.

“Do you need something?” she growled.

The Knight of Ren held up his hands peaceably. She didn’t know which one he was, nor did she care. She felt her eyes narrow as she studied the dilapidated, skull-like visage of his mask, and the motley combination of appropriated armor. She agreed with Hux on the matter of the Knights of Ren.

The knight approached her tentatively. She refused to back down. She firmly believed in her own ability to obliterate any of the knights had she the need. 

The knight was not as tall as she was. She stared down at him, her stance casual. She’d no need to posture.

The knight nodded almost approvingly. “No one saw your face. Hux wouldn’t let them.”

“Your point?” she yawned.

“Are you as loyal as he is? If not, maybe you’d like to play with us a bit,” he replied.

His tone was suggestive, but also something else she couldn’t quite name.

“Any time you want, General,” he purred and looked her up and down.

He made her flesh crawl. No one had spoken to her like that since--since…

Since Brendol Hux, mere moments before she slipped him the Parnassos bug.

Pity she didn’t have another.

What they were doing she possessed no clue, but it would bear keeping her eyes on that lot. If they were up to no good, Hux would let her deal with them, certainly.

She paused to consider. If Hux were to become a detriment to himself, to the Order, most importantly to her, what would she do? Would she bother alerting him to the knights’ machinations? Would she let him fall?

Her answer was always herself first, no matter what. But this time, her knowledge--or her assumption about herself--only made her mournful.

  
  


*

  
  


“Well, imagine my surprise when I saw that you’d be one of my doctors. Or should I not speak because the chancellor has bugged my suite?” Leia asked with a smirk.

A’Yara had come, under the guise of running tests. Which, actually, was the truth. But Taro was busy elsewhere, going over previous results, and so A’Yara took the opportunity to visit Leia alone.

“Shockingly, he didn’t. He probably wanted to, but--” A’Yara shrugged.

Leia made a surprised sound and raised her brows.

“Unfortunately, I haven’t been here long enough to find out as much as we’d hoped,” A’Yara continued. “Hux had me on your team nearly upon my arrival. I was quite stunned he brought me into the Order so quickly. I think they’re desperate to change the image the Empire left them with.”

Leia gave Millicent a pat on the head and stood. A’Yara turned to her instruments as Leia pulled off her shirt and undergarments. Once she was done, A’Yara took her vitals and some blood samples. Then she held out a little instrument from a drawer to run the samples. The same as usual, justly slightly different tests every day. She gave Leia a quick examination.

“I need a walk. Is there anywhere remotely green?” Leia sighed.

A’Yara considered. “I’m certain you’re allowed to use the Supreme Leader's garden. The Praetorian Guard use it, I’ve heard, but not the Knights of Ren,” she replied as she put away her tools. “Everyone else has to use the public gardens in the compound.”

“I’ll take any garden,” Leia told her.

After helping Leia back into her clothes, they found light coats for themselves. Leia slipped into a pair of cushioned shoes and sighed.

“These are like clouds,” she said with a look of bliss on her face.

“Would you be shocked if I told you the chancellor commissioned them and helped develop them for the medical staff? The non-droid ones, I mean,” A’Yara clarified.

Leia’s eyebrows rose.

“You like him?” she asked after a moment.

“No. I can’t like him,” A’Yara replied adamantly, “ but I find I don’t hate him either.” She tilted her head, and one of her lekku fell across her breast. “It is complicated,” she finished.

Leia nodded. Taking A’Yara’s proffered arm, she let herself be led to the lift. Two troopers followed them, but stayed at the lift entrance. This was Leia’s personal lift. No one used it, save for the general, the chancellor, and the Supreme Leader. The public lift was beside it; this lift required more security, of course.

Once the doors closed, A’Yara, murmuring to herself, took out her identichip and held it to a scanner. A digital pad appeared on the wall before her, the numbers offering to deposit them to every floor from the lobby to the floor above the royal suite, wherever Leia might have need to go. With a hopeful look on her face, she pushed the topmost button. A buzz sounded above the panel, and a voice stated, “Please stop in front of the scanner. Do not blink.”

She held her eyes open, of course needing to blink after five seconds.

The voice said, “Permission denied.”

“Damn,” she said.

“General Organa, please come forward.”

The two exchanged looks as Leia approached the scanner.

She huffed. Of course, it was too tall.

“One moment please,” the voice said.

After a handful of seconds, the scanner disappeared. A new one appeared roughly at eye level for Leia. She calmly glowered at the thing until it beeped.

“Permission granted. Enjoy your time in the royal gardens.”

“Thanks,” Leia replied.

The turbolift rose smoothly. She watched as the number changed from her floor to her son’s And Hux’s. A’Yara caught her thoughtful frown. And quite suddenly, the lift doors opened, and they were mesmerized by the lush foliage of a handful of different worlds. Dense displays of deciduous trees from Naboo lined the path stretching before them. Leia recognized some of the plants; a digital placard informed her of those she did not. Gawking, arm-in-arm, A’Yara and Leia strolled through the plants until they entered a new section of garden through a stone archway. Leia’s hands rose to her mouth as tears came from her eyes.

She hadn’t seen these species in so long. In over thirty years.

A simple placard affirmed what she already knew: Somehow, the First Order had recreated the flora native to Alderaan.

“The chancellor designed these,” a familiar voice said behind them.

A’Yara yelped as they turned.

Valance and one of the Rens stood there. The knight smiled affably, though the Ren--bald, just like Valance--stared shyly down at his boots.

“He asked Kylo what he wanted, and Kylo told him,” Valance said. “Kylo was trying to make it something of a challenge. But Hux took it seriously and did more than Kylo asked.” Valance shrugged. “Big dummy started crying when Hux showed it to him. Took nearly two years.”

“You called your boss a big dummy,” Leia observed wryly.

“Well, he can be. You’re his mom. You know.” He grinned.

She smirked in return.

A’Yara remained silent.

“You saw part of Naboo. Here’s Alderaan,” and here Valance gave a respectful little bow. “Over yonder is Chandrila. And the other direction is Arkanis. A little bit for himself.” He spoke fondly, almost wistfully.

Leia realized that, somehow, her son’s old friend harbored a fondness for the chancellor. She wondered how, after all he’d done. She couldn’t believe that Asher and Valance, the Rens, her doctors, even A’Yara, were so swayed by his monstrous behavior. Surely, there must be some merit to the man, if he engendered such loyalty.

She preferred not to discover any more reasons to let him remain in power. To keep her son.

She felt her brother following her.

The bald Ren hissed.

“It’s okay, Chero,” Val replied coolly. “It’s just the general’s brother coming to check on her.”

“Why does he look like that?” Chero asked.

Leai was surprised at the sound of his voice. He sounded nothing like Lan, barely like Kylo. His voice was quiet and gruff, as if he preferred not to use it.

“He’s dead,” Val replied bluntly, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at Luke. Then, “General,” he said with a bow, and led Chero off to give the siblings privacy.

“So,” Luke said.

“So,” Leia replied.

A’Yara sat on a bench, contentedly letting Leia converse with a man she could not see. She was certain that Skywalker had come to check on her. And to see if she herself had made any progress in spying on the Order. Sadly, she hadn’t been able to glean as much information as she’d have liked before she was assigned to Leia. But she’d been relieved for the assignment. At first, she’d feared the Order, once she was alone on their turf. But no--there were people she actually liked. There were initiatives she actually understood and supported--and those had been largely the ideas of one of the worst war criminals in galactic history! No, she would never like Hux; her parents had been on Hosnian Prime, whilst she and her grandfather--who secretly supported the Resistance too--had watched the footage of the holovids in horror.

She decided that day to contact Leia. Her grandfather feared for her safety in the belly of the beast, but she felt strangely safe. Only Luke could send word back to her grandfather, through the Resistance.

“A’Yara?” Leia called, her voice tinged with concern.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“Luke is ready. Go ahead and tell us everything.”

She smiled. Leia and Luke had made her job so much easier.

Spying had been a risk whether or not she was Force-sensitive, which she was only minimally. She couldn’t harness the Force, but sometimes she could sense things.

She recognized the truth of the chancellor’s claim that he was Kylo Ren’s consort, just as she had sensed the sorrow in him the next day, though she didn’t know why. Had she been more powerful, she’d have known why Hux was so mournful, but then Kylo Ren would have sensed her abilities. Without the Force, and without the twins, she’d have been equally endangered attempting to maneuver Hux’s tight security protocols in order to send them information.

Now in the privacy of the garden, having checked to be sure Valance and the bald Ren were gone, she told Luke and Leia what she could.

Not that there was much. But some. And some of it made Leia’s eyebrows rise to her hairline.

“How does a man who destroyed five planets come up with that?” Leia muttered.

“I told you, he’s complicated,” A’Yara reminded her.

“You don’t look surprised.” Leia frowned at her brother.

Luke shrugged. “I’ve spied on him a little myself.”

“Well,” Leia huffed. “He just gets more surprising every day.”

The three continued through the gardens, meandering through Chandrila and more of Naboo, until they found themselves in the Arkanian section of the garden, once they’d stepped through a transparisteel doorway. This area of the gardens was rainy and cool. Large conifers rose high above them, and the air smelled of the sea and pine. Everything was dark, somehow vibrant green, and the flowers were brightly colored.

Whoever tended this garden was surely a master.

The three continued through the trees, protected from the mist with umbrellas left by the door.

“So this is like where he’s from?” A’Yara asked. “It was so far, I’ve never seen it.”

“It’s very pretty and very wet. Imagine the fortune the moisture would get on Tattooine,” Luke declared wistfully to Leia.

Suddenly before them stood a marble column, silvery gray with black rivers snaking through it. It was strange to see stone on Coruscant.

Leia approached and read from it. Her face showed blatant surprise and curiosity.

“In loving memory of Siona and Maratelle. Your son survived.”

“Who are they?” A’Yara asked.

“My mothers,” a voice behind them replied quite suddenly.

With a start, Leia turned.

Hux sat behind them on a matching marble bench underneath a flowering tree with large pink blossoms, the same color as his full lips. Leai found this an incongruently pretty picture, despite her enmity towards the man.

He looked different here, though. Almost melancholy in this tiny simulacrum of his homeworld. She wondered if her son were the cause for his doleful mien.

He stood and approached the monument, placing his bare hand upon the cool, damp stone. Leia noticed how delicate his hands were, his wrists. He looked so fragile right now that she found it difficult to reconcile this creature here before her now with the egomaniacal monster who killed billions of beings.

She began to understand A’Yara’s declaration of his complexity.

“A year after we came here, Ren went to Arkanis to find my birth mother. I’m sure you know the story,” he said with a humorless laugh. “My father was, frankly, a karking piece of shit, pardon my language, General Organa.” He strolled around the column, blocked from their view as he continued. “My mothers were both killed in the Siege of Arkanis. Brendol abandoned Maratelle, his own wife. But Ren found an old servant who survived. They remembered it all very well.”

He reappeared and stared sadly at the two women. They held their breath, waiting for him to continue.

With a sigh, he did. “Brendol raped my mother, his servant, because Maratelle couldn’t give him a child, never mind a son. Maratelle tried to help take care of me, but he’d beat them both. He didn’t want women making his weakling son any weaker.” He laughed mirthlessly again. “The servant told your son that, to protect my mother and me, Maratelle had to ignore me. To be cold. But after we were evacuated from Arkanis, Maratelle evacuated their house and was killed helping my mother.”

He blinked suddenly, startled.

“I don’t know why I told you any of that,” he murmured.

Leia gulped. A’Yara stared at a tiny russet bloom at her feet. 

“I always thought she hated me,” he said with a shrug. “But she didn’t. So this is for them.” He patted the memorial. “That’s the tragic backstory of a tyrant,” he added, attempting levity. He didn’t like how Organa--Leia--Ren’s mother--looked at him. It was too sympathetic. Too understanding. She looked as uncomfortable with that as he felt.

Leia was surprised by a movement, someone brushing past her. She felt Luke disappear from her side as she watched her son sweep Armitage Hux into his arms. 

“Are you okay? What is it?” Ren whispered into his ear. His voice trembled, but his hot breath against Hux’s sideburn calmed the chancellor. Hux felt himself exhale his own breath in response, realizing suddenly that he’d been holding it in.

He also felt himself clutching the back of Ren’s tunic, uncaring that Leia observed, that their subordinate watched and might gossip. Ren came for him. For whatever reason, Ren came for him. Ren gazed at him intensely, brow furrowed, with a frown upon his face.

“I could feel your gloom from my training room,” Ren told him as he held Hux away from him; Ren’s large hands nearly completely encircled Hux’s arms.

Watching this momentary tenderness between her son and his lover baffled her: When Kylo--her Ben--was so obviously smitten with his chancellor how could he possibly think he wanted Rey?

“Mother,” Ren said. “I’m taking this mope to our chambers. I’ll visit you later?” Taking Hux’s hand, he bent to kiss her, ignoring A’Yara, and led his lover away. The look on Hux’s face as Ren took his hand was one of pure adoration. Even Hux seemed surprised at how much he loved her son.

After they left, Leia turned to A’Yara. “Complicated,” was all she said.

  
  


*

  
  


Rey and Finn sat at a large console table, along with D’Acy, Poe, Rose, and others whom Leia had left in charge.

Luke stood behind Rey as she related all they’d found out from their spy.

“What are we even supposed to do with that?” Poe bemoaned. “How can a maniac be at all interested in being a humanitarian?”

“There’s a dark side to it, though, Poe,” Finn averred. “To him, the ends justify the means. And his means are brutal.”

“It’s true,” Rose agreed. “Some of his ideas are sound, but how can a monster be totally capable of empathy?”

“I think,” Rey began solemnly, “I really need to see Leia. We need her input.”

“Rey--” Poe said.

“I need to see her, baby,” she told him. Finn sighed, raised her hand to kiss it.

“I can’t go with you,” he said.

“I know, love.”

“We’ll send one of the Black Squadron with you,” Poe insisted. When Rey made to refuse, he said sternly, “We are not letting you go alone, babe. Kylo Ren is mental about you. He’s a fucking creep.”

She smirked. “Such language, General Dameron. Fine, fine. I won’t go alone. Chewie?”

He growled an affirmative response.

“Well, Luke,” Rey said, “you’d best inform Mum we’re coming for a visit.”


End file.
